


You Really Got a Hold On Me

by CrossingInStyle



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: 1960s AU, Be gentle, Belle's a hippy, Drug Use, F/M, Fluff, Gold's a war vet, Killian is a MAJOR creepo in this one, Mentions of PTSD, Music, Never written smut before, Not sure what happened here, RedHatter?, Rumbelle Christmas in July, Smut, Swanfire - Freeform, is that a thing?, they make beautiful music together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-06 00:10:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 58,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11589024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrossingInStyle/pseuds/CrossingInStyle
Summary: Rumbelle Christmas in July gift for RoyaltyLaine!Mr. Gold has little in his life to give him meaning since losing everything after the war. Only the occasional visits from the son he so recently found give him any real joy. He’s crippled, angry, and afraid all of the time, but that changes when Belle French walks into his life with a flower painted on her cheek and a shared love of music.Title is the song, You Really Got a Hold On Me by The Miracles





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RoyaltyLaine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoyaltyLaine/gifts).



_Storybrooke, Maine: 1965._

“Come on man, it’s gotta be worth _something_!”

Mr. Gold eyed the glass pipe, somewhat phallic in shape, and its merry swirling colors, with a sardonic quirk of one brow.

“I suppose it just might be,” Mr. Gold allowed, his voice still and calm despite his growing annoyance. “But in order for it to be worth something to _me_ , I need to be able to _resell_ it. And despite the eclectic selection here in my shop, I have not yet found the need or desire to sell used drug paraphernalia.”

The dirty looking, sloppy, twenty-something in his flamboyant tie-dye shirt and clashing floral pants, blinked dumbly until Mr. Gold reached the word “drug.”

“Whoa, man, whoa,” he held up his hands in defense. “It’s a pipe for _tobacco_.”

Gold narrowed his eyes. “And I’m actually a woman underneath this suit.”

The boy’s eyes widened comically. “Whoa, seriously?! Far out!”

“Get out!” Gold snapped, patience officially gone. “And take this damned thing with you!”

“Hey, what’s your bag, man? I don’t judge!”

Gold shoved the water pipe into the protesting youth’s hands and shoved him roughly toward the door. “And don’t come back!” he snarled.

He could still hear the hippie arguing once the door was shut, as if Gold was standing out there listening to him.

Gold sighed and rubbed his face with the hand not holding his cane. Was this really what the world was stuck with as the next generation? A bunch of drugged out, clueless, discontent, yet utterly privileged _children_?

He’d always sworn he’d never become one of those old men who did nothing but complain about today’s youth and the _good ol’ days_ , but Jesus, the kids were making it hard.

In Gold’s days as a young adult, he’d been in times and places where clean water was a luxury, and a submersed bath was unheard of outside of hasty baptisms in frigid lakes. But these people that walked around today seemed to turn their noses up at such wonders as hot running showers, if the god-awful smell of that delinquent was any indication.

They shouted, and picketed, and cried for change and the end to war, but just what exactly were they actually doing to make a difference?

Now, Gold couldn’t deny that there were brave young men and women currently fighting for their country, and he would defend them till his dying breath. But they were stuck in an even more pointless war than the one that Gold had limped away from, terrified, and angry at the world.

With a sigh, he checked the antique grandfather clock by the counter, realizing that the odorous boy had managed to waste nearly half an hour of his time. But at least it was now past the usual lunch rush, and Gold could head over to Granny’s Diner without having to deal with the dozens of teenagers and young adults that flocked the place in the summer.

He sighed again. Maybe he _was_ becoming one of those old men.

 

***

 

“Belle? Beeelle…BELLE!”

Belle gasped, her head snapping up, then winced when the sudden motion caused her neck to pop, and she realized just how long she’d been bent over her book. “Sorry, Ruby,” she said sheepishly, looking around at how empty the diner had become since she’d been lost in her head.

Ruby rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “I’m used to it. What is it you’re reading anyway?”

“It’s really interesting! It’s about World War II, about the concentration camps…”

“Eh,” Ruby grimaced. “That’s so depressing!”

Belle shrugged self-consciously. “I know that, I mean it _is_ , what I mean is it’s interesting…”

“I don’t understand why you’d wanna read about war anyway,” Ruby interrupted again. “Isn’t that what we’re _against_?”

“Well, yes, of course, but don’t you think that to fight something, you should understand the psyche behind it?”

Ruby eyed her friend for a moment, confusion plain on her face, and Belle sighed.

Belle loved Ruby, she did, and she liked her other friends and the members of their peace coalition, Happy Endings Now, but she often felt like some of the others, Ruby included, just enjoyed peace rallies for the party aspect, but didn’t truly understand what their mission was about.

Belle didn’t start HEN, but since their founding member, a passionate younger woman named Emma, had gone to Boston to further the cause in a bigger city, Belle had been the driving force that kept the coalition alive. She organized the funds, printed flyers, planned the rallies…she truly longed to make a difference in the world. It was the other members who tended to turn the rallies into parties.

“Anyway, I was asking about the next rally,” Ruby continued, as if reading Belle’s thoughts. “What do you think about hiring a band to play?”

“A _band_?” Belle asked, crinkling her nose. “Ruby, this isn’t a _concert_ , it’s a peace rally! We’re trying to spread our message…”

“To _who_?” Ruby insisted exasperatedly. “Hardly anyone ever shows up to the rallies anymore, and they pretty much just ignore our protests. But if we lure people in with the promise of fun and music, we can still spread the word!”

Belle opened her mouth to argue before closing it again and biting her lower lip. As much as she hated it, Ruby had a point. In their small town of Storybrooke, everyone pretty much knew everyone, and there was only so much a peace group could do before people started to get bored with them. That was precisely why Emma had left. Belle often wondered if it wasn’t time for her to follow, to get out into the world, to _see_ the world…but at the same time this was her _home_ , and things were so uncertain in the world that it made her hesitant to leave and miss any time that could be spent with her father, and friends, and…well…

But before she could answer, a hulking presence was sliding its way into the booth next to her, making her tense in discomfort.

“Hello, love,” Killian crooned, far too close to her face for comfort.

Killian and his friends, Smith and Gaston, didn’t altogether fit in with their group. Far be it for Belle to ever say so, of course, because that was against her belief that one should never judge based on appearances. But where everyone else embraced the “Flower Power” culture, Killian and his bunch were Greaser rockers...or wannabe rockers, in her opinion.

“Did you talk her into it?” Smith asked Ruby hopefully before receiving a punch in the arm from Gaston.

“Ruby…” Belle began, her voice low and warning.

Ruby shrugged. “What? It’s not like there’s a whole lot of _options_ for groups around here to play at the rally. Not for free, anyway.”

Belle gave her friend a look that said, “really?” and Ruby at least had the decency to look abashed.

“Come on, Belly,” Gaston pleaded softly, “I think it’d be great for all of us!”

Belle found herself slowly relenting, regardless of how much she loathed the name “ _Belly.”_

Belle and Gaston had dated in high school, and he was – at heart – not a bad guy, but he simply had nothing to offer her intellectually, and only Emma had ever understood why that was important to her, considering what a “catch” most girls thought him to be. And then there was also the matter of his best friend, Killian, a self-proposed ladies’ man who had absolutely no sense whatsoever of what kind of contact is appropriate and what is _not,_ and Gaston was nothing if not a follower. Belle suspected that the only thing that had prevented Killian from trying to get into her pants after her and Gaston’s breakup had been his friendship with the latter.

But that had been many years ago, and she’d been noticing that ever since Emma’s departure, Killian’s eyes were lingering on her longer and longer, and Gaston was either oblivious, or perhaps he’d given his blessing, who knew.

It was widely known, unfortunately, that Belle and Gaston never got any farther than a heavy make-out session or two in the back of his Ford. This was because Killian had pestered Gaston constantly to “pluck that cherry already” which had led to one unfortunate experience in the backroom of Granny’s that resulted in tears.

They were Gaston’s tears. Because Belle had kneed him where it hurt.

And that had been the end of that relationship, even though Belle had accepted his heartfelt apology later on for pushing too hard.

Coming back to the matter at hand, Belle inched away from where Killian’s arm was resting _oh so casually_ on the back of the booth.

“Come on, Belle,” Ruby said. “It wouldn’t hurt to give it a try. And if it doesn’t turn out, then we try something new next time.”

“Yeah, okay,” Belle said with a sigh, feeling outnumbered. She didn’t even need to ask the rest of the coalition to know what their vote on the matter would be. Despite his smarminess, Killian was well-liked in the group.

“Thanks, Belle!” Gaston said, his face lighting up like a little boy’s, making Belle smile despite herself.

“You won’t regret it, love,” Killian murmured in her ear, making Belle cringe away from the smell of marijuana.

“Yeah, we’ll see,” Belle muttered.

“Look who it is,” Smith said suddenly, gesturing toward the entrance.

Belle had a feeling she knew who it was before she looked, but look she did. Mr. Gold was sauntering into the establishment like he owned the place – and he did. But he walked that way everywhere, and Belle, as someone who was always a little unsure of herself, had always admired that about him.

He was dressed in a classic three-piece suit, like always. The only hint that he at all embraced the sixties was his shaggy hair that brushed his collar and hung slightly over his eyes. Eyes that she knew were a warm chocolate brown, even though she’d never been closer than three feet from them.

“When are we setting up a protest there?” Killian asked snidely.

“Where?” Ruby asked.

Killian jerked a finger over his shoulder. “At the geezer’s shop.”

“Why on _earth_ would we protest Mr. Gold’s shop?” Belle asked.

“Why? Because he stands for everything we’re _against_. Haven’t you heard all the rumors about him from the War? How he killed all those people? The fucker’s _proud_ of being a soldier. Of slaughtering children.”

“I heard he forced a Japanese woman to be his wife,” Ruby said, never able to resist some juicy gossip. “But she killed herself before he could bring her here.”

Belle glanced back over her shoulder, and to her horror, made eye-contact with the man in question. “Stop it!” she hissed, whipping back around. “Those are just vicious rumors and he can _hear_ you!”

“Who cares?” Killian said, raising his voice even louder while Smith guffawed. “We have no use for the likes of _him_!”

“Ok, Killian, mellow out,” Ruby said nervously, retreating to the counter to look busy.

But Killian wouldn’t quit. “Oh, what’re you so afraid of?” he stood up, and even Gaston and Smith’s eyes widened in unease. “The old man’s afraid of his own shadow.”

With that, Killian spun suddenly, slapping his hand down on the counter with a loud _bang!_

Mr. Gold, seemingly despite obvious anger, visibly jumped, nearly tripping over his cane, and Killian, Gaston, and Smith broke out into riotous laughter.

“Shut your mouths!” Granny snapped, appearing from the kitchen. “Before I shut them for you!” she handed Gold his order, who accepted it with a gruff thanks before leaving as fast as his limp would allow.

Belle watched him go, heart sinking somewhere in the vicinity of her appendix. Right before he turned to go, his eyes had met hers again, and they appeared almost _hurt_ , like he was sad that she was even with these fools.

“You’re all a bunch of _idiots_ ,” Belle hissed, jumping up from the booth when Killian made to sit beside her again.

“Oh, come on, love,” Killian said. “We were only having fun.”

“You think mocking and tormenting someone is _fun_?”

“It’s not like he doesn’t deserve it,” Gaston tried to defend. “After the things he’s done.”

“No, Belle’s right,” Ruby said. “That wasn’t cool, Killian.”

“Fine, fine,” Killian held up his hands in surrender, though he didn’t look the least bit sorry.

At that time, another of their friends, Will, entered, flinging open the door with a bang like he normally did. Will was a nice enough fellow, though his drug use was legendary.

“Was that Mr. Gold that just left?” he asked. “That spazz just yelled and hurled me outta his shop! And all I wanted was to do some business!”

“See, Killian?” Ruby said. “Mr. Gold’s on the edge. You shouldn’t mess with him.”

Killian probably had more to say on the matter, but Belle was sick of listening, so she left.

 

***

 

By the time Gold made it to his shop, his appetite was gone and he was ready to break something. _Several_ somethings.

It wasn’t what that idiotic boy and those others had said. He’d stopped caring about ridiculous rumors and the town’s general disdain for him years ago. No, it was the fact that the leather-clad deviant made him _flinch_.

And it didn’t help that _she’d_ been there, sitting with them, watching him with those too-big eyes and seeing just how weak and pathetic he was. _She_ was probably laughing at him now.

_She_ …was Belle French, the florist’s daughter. Oh, Gold had no designs on the girl, she was, frankly and rather unfortunately, too young for him. Too young, and far too pure. But she was…she was…she was _Belle_.

From the time she was a child, she was the only person in town who met Gold at the door to her father’s shop with a smile instead of a scowl or grimace, and neither did she just run and hide like the other children in town did. He’d quietly doted on her for years, asking about the books she constantly carried in her arms, and sometimes bringing her small baubles from his shop. Nothing expensive of course, just things like pretty buttons or cheap brooches. Her father never knew about that of course, because he doubtless would have been very suspicious of the town monster showing any sort of interest – as innocent and passing as it was – to his daughter. But Gold, despite the town’s opinion, was _no_ monster, and he had a high sense of propriety, so any kindness he bestowed upon the cherubic girl was done in the presence and approval of her mother.

Belle’s mother, Collette, had been everything Belle would someday become. Kind, beautiful, and smart. And even if she didn’t outwardly care for Gold, she’d always seemed amused when Belle would rush to the door to greet him enthusiastically.

In a sad turn of events, Collette had passed away right around the time Gold had realized the tiny girl he saw once a month had all of a sudden turned into a stunning young woman. When he’d entered the flower shop that afternoon, Collette’s death had been so recent that he hadn’t even yet heard. Belle was in the shop, arranging flowers, trying to pretend everything was alright.

“Belle?” he said softly, uncertainly, seeing the tears in her puffy red eyes.

With no warning, the small teenager had flung herself into his arms, sobbing for what he wondered was the first time during the whole mess.

Collette had been sick for some time, but no one in town beside her family had known. Collette hadn’t wanted it that way. She didn’t want any pity or sudden fake offers of friendship from people who only wanted to make themselves feel good. And for that, Gold could feel nothing for the woman but respect.

He’d held Belle until her tears finally subsided. But that had been the last time. After that, he distanced himself, because he couldn’t deny that he was becoming more and more attracted to the young woman, and without Collette there to chaperone, he no longer felt it was right to have more contact with her than necessary for the rent, and her father normally handled that part.

If Belle noticed his distance, she never let on. She just continued to be her sunny self, carrying on the way her mother had wanted her too, and it wasn’t long before Belle became as covered in flowers as the shop she helped run. They were on her clothes, in her hair, often painted on her face. He’d rolled his eyes when she joined up with that silly hippie peace group, but he knew she’d always been a bit of an outsider, and figured that it was harmless enough way to fit in.

And he’d even been pleased to hear when she started going with that boy Gaston, since even though the boy had been a few matches short of a book, he was a harmless enough sort, or so he thought. Gold had just been glad to see Belle thriving, even from a distance. And when he’d heard of the event that led to their breakup, he’d been in equal terms furious at the cock-headed boy, and proud of little Belle for the way she’d dealt with him.

So yes, even though she was just the Girl from the Flower Shop, Gold hated that she’d been witness to just how cowardly he really was.

He jumped again, slightly, when the bell above his door rang to announce a customer, and he growled at himself.

“I’m closed for lunch,” he began testily, brushing aside the curtain that separated the backroom from the rest of his shop, then froze when he saw who’d entered his shop.

“I…I’m sorry,” Belle said, half-turning toward the door as if she was ready to flee if need be. He’d never given _her_ a reason to fear him, had he? “I won’t bother you…I just…”

“No, it’s alright,” he said, his voice softer. She calmed instantly, recognizing the tone of voice only she and her mother had ever been treated to, to her knowledge. “How can I help you, Miss French?”

“I don’t need anything,” Belle said, shrugging her shoulders, and also sort of pulling them in on herself. He took just a moment to take in her attire; a loose dress in a vivid floral design with flowing long sleeves, and a hemline that…dear God…it _barely_ went down far enough to keep her from being indecent!

She seemed to be aware of this, because she was bent slightly forward, and her hands were tugging at her hem, so Gold snapped his eyes back up to her face, where her hair was held back by a wide headband, and mentally berated himself for ogling the poor girl’s legs. It was just that…she had very nice ones.

“It’s just…” Belle continued, as if he _hadn’t_ been staring. “I’m sorry about the way Killian and the others were behaving.”

All thoughts of her legs fled his mind as he snorted in derision. “And why do _you_ feel it’s your responsibility to apologize for _them_?”

“I don’t!” she said, bristling slightly. “I was just…I mean, they’re members of my coalition, I associate with them, so I just didn’t want you to think their behavior reflects how _I_ feel.”

Gold chose to ignore the way she said “how I feel,” and instead decided to go with good old reliable sarcasm. “Ah yes, the henpeckers.”

Belle scowled, and damned if she wasn’t beautiful when she did that. “That’s HEN. H.E.N. It stands for…”

“I know what it stands for, Dearie,” he interrupted. “Although it should probably stand for something like, ‘Hippies Educating No-one.’ Tell me, just _what_ do you seriously think you’re going to accomplish by going around and waving signs that say ‘love, not war?’”

Belle’s fists were clenched, and she straightened up to her full-height, which was still impossibly small. “This war we’re fighting is _pointless_! They all are! We’re sending boys to die for a cause that doesn’t exist! All we’re trying to do is make sure everyone knows that when we _do_ find the power to end all this fruitless fighting, we _will_ end it!”

Gold hated to admit it, but her passionate declaration was convincing, and he could imagine her being very moving during a speech. “But what are you going to _do_ to find this supposed power? You can’t accomplish a damned thing just protesting everything that displeases you.”

Suddenly, and to his dismay, Belle deflated. “I know that,” she admitted. “All we can really do is try to make the next generation a better one. But how can we do that if we don’t try to make sure everyone in our generation is on the same side?”

Gold folded both his hands on his cane, eying the petite ball of fire before him. She didn’t flinch under his scrutiny, and it pleased him to see that she wasn’t truly afraid of him after all. “I see your point,” he allowed.

He may as well have told her that she’d made him see the light and he wanted to join her coalition for all she lit up in victory. “I don’t suppose I could convince you to come to the rally?” she asked slyly. “See what it’s really about?”

“With that pathetic excuse for a rock band playing?” he scoffed. “I think not.”

“Yeah, it’s probably gonna be a drag, isn’t it?”

“I guess?”

Belle giggled, making him have to bite back a smile of his own. “What kind of music do you like, Mr. Gold?”

Gold blinked in momentary confusion. He’d thought that he had been successfully putting her off him by first talking down about her group, and then sneering at the idea of attending one of her infernal rallies. But now she was stepping closer, eyes roving the cluttered walls with interest, taking in the assortment of instruments hanging from the far wall.

“I’m not too fond of what passes for music these days,” he said truthfully.

“Then what _do_ you like?” she asked again.

He hesitated, but before the thought was fully formed in his mind, he was moving toward an old record player set up near the back of the shop. It was technically for sale, but he had it hidden in a way that few people ever noticed it. When his son had expressed interest in playing it while he was there, Gold had set it aside so that it wouldn’t be as likely to sell.

He was silent as he fiddled with the ancient thing, too-aware of her eyes watching his every move, but his nerves settled with the soothing sound of Nat King Cole.

“Jazz,” she said with a half-smile. “For some reason, I wouldn’t have pegged you for a jazz man.”

He smirked. “More like blues, but I’m sure there’re many things you don’t know about me.”

“That so?” she asked, and if he didn’t absolutely know better, he could have almost sworn she was _flirting_.

“I suppose you’re mad for those Beatles,” he said, cursing the wobble in his voice.

“I wouldn’t say _mad_ , but what’s not to like? They’re not my favorite, though.”

“Oh? And what is?”

She took a cursory glance at his selection of records, but he could have told her that he didn’t have anything from after 1955. “I’ll bring you a couple of mine,” she said decidedly. “You might like them.”

He hummed. “I don’t know about that.”

“Just you wait,” she said, grinning. “I’ll bring you around to the 60s yet!”

He rolled his eyes, but with none of his usual snide.

“I better be going,” she almost sounded regretful. “Promised Dad I’d do some arrangements today.”

“A…alright.”

“But I’ll come back with some records, yeah?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

With one last smile as bright as the colors on her dress, she was gone, leaving Gold to wonder just what the hell had just happened.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Between planning the rally and working at the flower shop, Belle wasn’t able to visit Gold again right away. She’d left his shop that afternoon feeling strange…but in a good way.

For as long as she could remember, she’d harbored a crush on the pawnbroker. But it’d been just that, a silly, childish crush. When she’d been thirteen, she’d declared to her mother in no uncertain terms that she was going to marry Mr. Gold someday.

Instead of arguing the logic of such a statement, or blowing it out of proportion like her father would have done, her mother had only chuckled and commented that Mr. Gold seemed wealthy enough to give her a nice wedding.

“But isn’t he a bit old for you?” she had asked her daughter at length.

“He’s younger than Papa,” Belle had said, as if that was all that mattered. “And he’s handsome, and nice, and smart, and he likes books.”

Collette had wrapped her daughter up in a warm hug, squeezing tight. “I know, my darling Belle, that you are going to find someone someday who is all of that and more.”

“I don’t need to,” Belle said firmly. “I already found him!”

Collette had sighed in indulgent submission, and that had been that.

But outside girlish fantasies, Belle had never given serious thought to Mr. Gold until her argument with him in the pawn shop. For the first time, he’d spoken to her like the adult she was. He’d been snarky and derisive, the way he was with everyone, but he hadn’t been _dismissive_. No, there’d been a spark of something…like a _challenge_ in his eyes. Like he was hoping she would stand up to him, and when she did, he became like a totally different person. Smirking one minute, and stammering over his words the next.

She couldn’t stop thinking about him, about the way his long fingers wrapped around the handle of his cane, about how he tossed the hair out of his eyes while he was talking.

He was a slim man, and on the short side, though still a good few inches above her, not that that was saying much. She liked that about him though. Gaston had been so much taller than her that he’d had to literally stoop to kiss her.

With Gold, she would simply have to wrap her arms around his neck and…

Belle stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, mentally shaking herself. What was she thinking? But then, she supposed it was harmless to imagine, since it would never come to be. Gold had known her since she was a child, for goodness sake. There was no way he could ever see her _that_ way.

But then again, she was pretty sure he’d been staring at her legs at one point.

She glanced at her watch, and decided that since she’d finished up with her dad early, she still had a couple of hours before the rally. If she got ready quickly, she’d have plenty of time to swing by Gold’s with those records.

Showered and dressed in record time, she gave herself a last once-over in the mirror before heading out. She regretted that her outfit didn’t exactly make her look “mature.” She had on her favorite yellow dress, one of her shortest too, but she just adored the color. It was sleeveless, with a high neckline to make up for the short hemline. She usually paired it with tights, but the weather tonight was warm, and she remembered again Gold’s eyes on her legs that day.

It was her face that really betrayed her youth. She was twenty-six, so maybe she was getting a little old to paint flowers on her face, but the rally was a special occasion. That though, with the pale pink lipstick, and the feathers in her flat-ironed hair, she looked all of eighteen, if that.

With a helpless shrug, she donned her fringed suede vest, grabbed her records, and raced down the stairs. She kissed her dad on the cheek in goodbye, and in a spur of the moment decision, snatched a rose from the front display.

She held the rose to her nose as she hurried down the sidewalk, trying to let its scent settle her nerves.

When Belle reached the shop, she was surprised to open the door and find that Gold’s shop wasn’t empty.

She didn’t know _why_ she was surprised, it was during business hours, after all.

She supposed the surprise came from the fact that it was Jefferson Carroll there, and he was talking to Gold like they were old friends.

Jefferson lived on the outskirts of town, and everyone thought he was a little strange. He wasn’t ostracized the way Gold was, but it was well-known that he suffered from some sort of mental disorder, so people gave him wide berth.

Belle had never had much contact with him, but she’d never found any reason to distrust or dislike him in any way. In fact, she’d always thought he was rather funny. He was older than her, but younger than Gold. She wasn’t exactly sure _how_ old, because she suspected that he looked younger than he was, the way she did.

“Belle,” Gold said when he saw her, his voice going soft, which made Jefferson spin around to face her.

“Hi,” she began shyly. “I don’t mean to interrupt…”

“No, no, I was just leaving,” Jefferson said, with a rather disconcerting grin that he aimed first at her, and then at Gold, who scowled in return, then back at her again. “Rally tonight, huh?” he asked her.

“Yeah!” she said, trying to ignore his almost _mad_ expression. “It’s shaping up to be a big one! A lot of people from out of town have been showing up.”

“Good, good,” he nodded thoughtfully. “Might have to come check it out for myself.”

“Far out!” Belle exclaimed. “Hope I’ll see you there!”

Jefferson donned, of all things, a top hat, which he then tipped to her, and proceeded to exit the shop. She smiled at his retreating form in bemusement before turning back to Gold, finding him looking less than pleased.

“Friend of yours?” she asked.

 “Hardly,” Gold replied with a roll of his eyes. “He likes to come in and pester me, occasionally.”

“Sounds like a friend,” Belle said, giggling.

Whatever cloud that had dampened his mood seemed to lift, and he gave a half smile. “And to what do I owe this pleasure?”

She held up the records in her hands. “I promised, remember?”

Gold eyed the squares of cardboard warily. “Oh, very well, how bad can it be?”

“Not bad at _all_ I’ll have you know!” she insisted, heading over toward the record player. She hesitated though once she was already reaching for the arm, wondering at her own audacity for going around like she owned the place. But a quick glance behind her assured that Gold was only watching her with amusement and…yeah, she was definitely _not_ imagining the way his eyes lingered on her thighs.

“And what do we have here?” he asked, coming up closer behind her to peer over her shoulder.

“We have the Temptations, Aretha Franklin, and this…” she popped on the first record and carefully set the needle on. “Is Marvin Gaye.”

Gold looked fully ready to scoff at her choices, but it wasn’t long at all before a somewhat far-away look came over his face, and all of a sudden he looked years younger.

“Soul,” she said quietly, so not to talk over the music. “Kind of the love child of Jazz, I think?”

“It’s no Frank Sinatra,” he grumbled, unconvincingly.

“Well, we can’t all be Frank Sinatra.”

He huffed an almost-chuckle. “What about the others?”

 

Belle ended up spending the better part of two hours on the floor of Mr. Gold’s shop, looking through records, listening to music – both hers and his, and Belle listened eagerly as he told her about concerts he was able to attend while stationed.

“They would come perform for us,” he said. “Lift our spirits, I suppose. And it worked. There’s nothing like music to sooth a soul.”

“It’s important to you, isn’t it?” Belle asked. “Music, I mean.”

He shrugged. “Once upon a time, I suppose it was.”

“Do you play? Or sing?”

His eyes went to something over her shoulder, and she twisted around to look at the big wooden box she was leaning against. She sat up on her knees and lifted the corner of the canvas sheet that was draped over it, realizing that it was old upright piano.

“Do you play?” she asked again, her voice rising in excitement.

“Once upon a time,” he repeated.

“I would love to hear you play sometime,” she said shyly, lifting a hand to brush her hair behind her ear.

She jumped slightly when his hand shot out and stopped her before her fingers touched her face. He seemed to realize what he’d done too late and snatched his hand away as if burned, his face turning a charming shade of red. “S…so sorry,” he stammered. “I only…you were about to…to smudge your flower.”

Now it was her turn to blush, and she had to fight herself from trying to brush her hair away again in nervousness. “Oh! Thank you! That would have been a drag!”

He chuckled, at her word usage most likely. “Yes, well, you probably ought to get going, if you want to make your rally.”

She gasped and leapt to her feet, stumbling a little on legs that were asleep. She looked down to find Gold staring hard at the Aretha Franklin record spin around, and his face was absolutely puce. She realized, embarrassingly, that in her rush to get to her feet she must have given him a bit of a show. _Shouldn’t have forgone the tights._

She held out a hand to help him up, but he ignored it and managed to get to his feet with little problem if not a little pain. “I almost forgot,” she said quietly, bending (carefully) down to pick up the forgotten rose before handing it out to him with a smile. “If you’ll have it?”

He chuckled. “Such a Flower Child,” he took the rose, his fingers brushing hers, and she nearly gasped at the feeling.

“S…sure you won’t come out to the rally?” she asked, for the first time truly wishing he _would_ , though she could quite put a finger on why. “Even if it’s just to deride the band?”

“Ah, no, though you make it sound tempting. What do they call themselves, anyway?”

Belle rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. “The Killings.”

“A play on Killian Jones’s name I’m sure. How lovely.”

“Well…it was nice talking to you, Mr. Gold,” she backed away toward the door, not really wanting to leave at all.

“Don’t forget your records,” he said, bending to pick them up.

“You can borrow them,” she said. “I’ll come back for them later.”

He smiled at that, a real smile, one that made her feel oddly warm, and nodded.

 ***

Gold stood, staring at the door for a full and embarrassing three minutes after Belle had left. What in the world was happening to him? Since when did he spend hours sitting on the dirty floor listening to albums like a teenage girl?

But when Belle had plopped gracelessly down, showing an alarming lack of concern for her short dress, he’d been helpless to follow her lead, trying to lower himself down as smoothly as possible to not draw attention to how old and lame he was.

He’d always known Belle to be a little ray of sunshine, and an intelligent one at that, but he’d never realized just how expansive that mind was. She was incredibly knowledgeable about music, and not just what was popular and when. She admitted to having read several books on music theory and could recognize subtle changes in tempo and rhythm that made a large impact on a song. So she was not only knowledgeable, she had an ear. And when she had softly sung along to Billie Holiday, her voice – while untrained – was low and throaty, and it had enflamed something in Gold that he honestly didn’t know was there.

He’d even offered up a small anecdote about the concerts and USO Girls from his time in the army, something unheard of for him, and she’d been attentive and interested, but didn’t ask questions about the war or his injury. He didn’t, however, lose himself enough to mention _another_ pair of musicians that were popular at base.

He’d been unable to keep his eyes off her for long, and it made him feel like such a lecher. But she’d only smiled and giggled, which pushed that little yellow daisy on her cheek up toward her eye, and he found that entrancing for some reason, along with the feathers and ribbons strung through her hair and dangling from her ears. And then of course there was when she stood up again, and someone should really tell her to take more care, because he was treated to a sight that wasn’t meant for him. But damned if he’d forget about it anytime soon.

He was still facing the door when it suddenly opened again, and his heart leapt into his throat, hoping for an absurd moment that she’d come back, but it was just his idiotic “friend.”

“What do you want now?” he groaned, heading back to the safety of the counter. “I thought you said you were going to the rally.”

“I’m on my way, now,” Jefferson said, sidling up to the counter with a worrisome gleam in his eyes. He’d changed out of his suit and stupid hat and exchanged it for a more fashionable pair of bell-bottom jeans and suede jacket. Certainly more suitable for a hippie peace party. “Just swung by to collect _you_.”

“Me?” Gold asked incredulously. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told the young woman, I don’t think so.”

“ _The young woman,”_ Jefferson echoed with an abysmal attempt to mimic his accent. “You mean Belle French? The _young woman_ who I just saw leave your shop some two hours after I saw her enter?”

“Get that look off your face and that thought out of your mind,” Gold warned.

Jefferson gasped in mock offense. “What thought? I only wonder at just _what_ business she could have been completing with you that would take so long!”

“She brought some albums to show me. And then stayed around to listen to them with me, we got to talking and just lost track of time. That’s _all_.”

“You like her,” Jefferson said with a wide Cheshire Cat grin.

“Of course I do,” Gold said with a huff. “And you know full-well I do, I’ve always been rather fond of the girl.”

At this, Jefferson threw back his head and laughed theatrically. “Fond of the girl, my ass! For one, in case you haven’t noticed, _and like hell you haven’t_ , Belle is hardly a ‘girl’ anymore. Hasn’t been for a long time. For two, being _you_ and spending two hours talking on the floor with someone goes way beyond _fondness_ , and for three, four, AND five, did you even SEE the way she was looking at you?!”

“What way was that?” Gold asked, genuinely wondering, because he certainly hadn’t noticed her looking at him in any way she didn’t look at anyone else. “And…wait a minute…how did you know that we…were you _spying_?!”

But Jefferson only shrugged, unapologetic. “Old habits. Just looking out for my best friend, that’s all!”

“We are _not_ best friends.”

“Well, maybe I’m not _your_ best friend, I think I’ve been officially usurped by a tiny flower flinger, but _you’re_ _mine_ , and that’s not something you can dictate. So get over it.”

Gold groaned and covered his face with one hand. “If I don’t argue, will you leave?”

“You should _come_ ,” Jefferson insisted. “What better way to impress a woman than showing up to support her cause?”

“Because I _don’t_ support her flimsy cause,” Gold said. “Belle may be perfectly well-meaning, but most of those other fools don’t know what the hell they’re talking about, and all they truly care about is getting stoned and having a party. And besides that, I’m a well-known Army veteran with a less-than-stellar reputation. Not exactly a welcome presence on its own. Never mind the fact that everyone in this town despises me.”

“She knows full well that you’re a vet,” Jefferson argued. “And me too, but she invited us both. Who gives a flying fuck what those other dirty hippies think? You can be seen with her, showing support to _her_ if not the cause, and she’ll like that.”

Gold tried to formulate a proper argument, but quite frankly, he didn’t have one. He just kept thinking of her glowing smile, and that damned daisy on her cheek, and how he would perhaps like to see her having fun the way a young person should.

And there it was. Gold would show up, see her dancing and partying and drinking with her friends, maybe even a handsome young man, and then he could stop having delusions of ever having a relationship with her other than that of friends. And Jefferson would see too, and maybe he’d finally leave him alone.

“Fine,” Gold said at last. “I’ll show up, look around, say hello to Belle, and then I’m leaving, with or without you.”

“Works for me!” Jefferson exclaimed, bouncing up and down like a child. “Want a lift to your house?”

“My house? I thought we were going to the rally!”

“Well, yeah, but you need to get dressed.”

Gold looked down at what he was wearing, which was one of his best suits. Perhaps he was a little rumpled from sitting on the floor, but he just couldn’t imagine that any of the people at the rally would notice or care. “I am dressed,” he said.

“Yeah, for _church_ ,” Jefferson sighed. “This is an outdoor rally and concert. You don’t wear three-piece suits to an outdoor concert.”

“I am not _going_ to a concert,” Gold said, sneering. “I said I would see Belle and then leave. Hell will freeze over before I watch that Jones boy squawk into a microphone.”

“Well, _obviously_ we’re not going to watch those knuckleheads play, I’ve heard them, and trust me, they’re awful. But you have to at least _look_ the part.”

“I’m not _playing_ any part!”

“I’m not saying you should go out and tie-die all your shirts! But I know _damn well_ that you own jeans.”

“Jefferson Carroll, I am not, under any circumstances, going to let you truss me up like some kind of paper doll just to fulfill whatever sick fantasy you have running through that demented head of yours. So _forget it_.”

 

An hour later found Gold grumbling every curse word he’d ever learned, both in English and Scots, as he followed Jefferson to a large stage area near the beach, wearing fitted jeans, a dark red turtleneck, and a brown blazer. Quite literally the most casual clothes he owned, and the turtleneck had been a gift from Jefferson and never worn.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” he hissed under his breath.

“Oh come on, hang loose. You look good. _Groovy_!”

Gold gave him a look, and Jefferson had the decency to back away.

The concert was already in full swing, the greasers on stage shouting indiscernible lyrics to an equally indiscernible tune, while the audience cheered and waved the typical banners covered in peace signs.

“They can’t possibly think this is good music,” Gold said, having to raise his voice to be heard over the racket.

“No way,” Jefferson agreed. “They were probably already stoned out of their minds before they got here. Look at them, most of these people aren’t even from Storybrooke.”

“That’s supposed to be a good thing for Belle. Spread the word, or whatever.”

“Yeah, but they look like they’re just looking for the next party.”

Now that he mentioned it, the crowd looked pretty rowdy, and he was a little worried for Belle.

“What are those people doing?” he asked in disgust and shock, nodding toward a half-naked pair coupling in the relative shadows of the trees.

“They are having public sex, my friend.”

“It was rhetorical, Jefferson.”

“Jeff!...Gold?! Is that you?!”

They turned around to see Dr. Whale of all people, decked out in blinding colors, clashing patterns, and absurd little round red sunglasses that must have him nearly blind in the dark. Trailing behind him was the town’s resident therapist, Dr. Hopper.

“Hey, Victor,” Jefferson called, nodding. “Archie.”

“Did he drag you here, too?” Gold asked Archie, who looked about as comfortable as Gold felt – which was not at all.

“Yes,” Archie said, giving his friend a sideways look. “And I’m fully regretting it. This is…this is an _orgy_! I can’t be seen here! I’ll lose all credibility!”

“Nah,” Victor waved him off. “If anything people will be _more_ inclined to come to you! You’re relatable!”

“I’m too _old_ for this!”

“You heard him,” Gold said. “And if _he’s_ too old, I’m damn right geriatric, come on, Hopper.”

Archie brightened up at the idea of escape, but Jefferson blocked their way. “Uh, uh, uh, you haven’t even seen Belle yet! Remember? The _whole point_ of coming?”

“ _Belle_?” Victor said; face alight like a teenage girl who’d just received some juicy gossip. “Belle French? Gold, old man, are you scheming on _Belle French_?”

“I am not _scheming_ on anyone,” Gold snarled. “And please, talk like the grown man you are, and not a homecoming queen.”

“There she is,” Archie said, pointing toward the stage.

“The Killings” were wrapping up their song, and Belle was stepping confidently over to the microphone.

“Let’s hear it for The Killings!” she exclaimed.

The crowd erupted into cheers, while Gold, Jefferson, Victor, and Archie gave slow, sarcastic claps.

Jones winked at the crowd, making a few girls squeal in delight, then he hooked a hand around Belle’s waist, yanked her toward him and kissed her sloppily on the cheek.

Gold saw red, especially when Belle couldn’t keep the grimace off her face and discreetly pushed at him ineffectively. Jefferson laid a hand on his shoulder, as if to stop him from rushing for the stage, but he only clenched his cane in a white-knuckle grip and envisioned all the ways he could make Jones’ life miserable.

Jones let her go, and followed his bandmates off the stage, tossing a sweat-soaked bandana at the screaming girls as if he were Elvis fucking Presley and not just some untalented hack.

Belle recovered quickly, and her smile once again turned blinding. “I want to thank everyone for coming out tonight, and I hope everyone has an awesome time!” more cheering. “Happy Endings Now is a group on a mission: to bring hope and love to a world in desperate need of both! To bring an end to ruthless and needless fighting and to bring our soldiers _home_ for _good_!” At this, Gold found himself clapping more genuinely. “Stop fighting our parents’ wars, and give birth to a better world…one where love _reigns!_ ”

The crowd went wild, to Gold’s approval, and Belle’s smile was resplendent.

“Ok, I get it,” Victor said, nodding sagely, as they all watched Belle skip off the stage to launch herself into the excited arms of Ruby Lucas. “I mean, you’re gonna make a fucking weird couple, but I definitely see your end of things.”

“You’re as bad as Jefferson,” Gold groaned. “We’re not now, nor will we ever _be_ a couple. I’ve known her her whole life. We’re friends, just…”

“Mr. Gold?!”

Gold nearly swallowed his tongue, his sentence trailing off in an embarrassing squeak. How did she skirt around the sizable crowd to get to them so fast? He turned around, cursing his face for flushing, and his feet for almost stumbling in the damp grass. He could hear Victor and Jefferson chuckling behind him.

If Belle’s smile on stage was one thing, the one she was directing at him was something else entirely, and he wondered dimly if he was having a heart attack, and was glad a doctor was standing next to him.

“You came!” she cried, her voice rising several octaves. “You acted like you wouldn’t be caught dead here! And…” she suddenly looked down, seeming to take in his attire for the first time, her eyes widening. “You look…great!”

“Uh…” Gold stammered. “Jefferson dragged me…he…”

“Oh don’t listen to him,” Jefferson said, waving him off. “I didn’t have to drag him anywhere. I only mentioned that it would make you happy if he made an appearance, and he decided he would!”

Belle’s eyes flitted back to Gold, and though the glow from the fairy lights strung from the trees was dim, her cheeks under the yellow daisy brightened. “Really?” she asked sweetly.

“Um…yes?”

“Belle, whoa, when you took off there was a cloud of dust like the Roadrunner,” Ruby was saying, catching up to her. “What did you…Mr. _Gold_?!”

“He came to see the rally!” Belle said excitedly. “He and his friends!”

Gold balked, and Victor smirked while Jefferson gasped audibly in absurd joy and Archie just chuckled. “They’re not my friends.”

Ruby didn’t look impressed, however. “Yeah but…Belle? Could I talk to you for a minute?”

“But, Ruby…”

“You go on,” Gold said. “You probably ought to make rounds, hm?”

Belle regretfully let Ruby start to drag her away. “You’ll stick around a while, though?” she asked.

Gold smiled at her. “Yeah, I’ll be here.”

Belle gifted him with another radiant smile and turned to follow her friend. Gold turned back around himself to find Jefferson grinning at him triumphantly, Archie smiling knowingly, and Victor following the girls with his eyes until Archie nudged his arm.

“Huh? What?” Victor caught Gold’s glare. “What? I was looking at _Ruby_!”

“Can we go now?” Gold pleaded to Jefferson.

“You can’t go!” Archie said urgently. “You just told Belle you’d be around!”

“He’s right,” Victor agreed. “You have to see her at least one more time.”

“Do you realize what you all sound like?” Gold groaned, throwing up his hand in exasperation. “This isn’t some teen romance flick. Belle isn’t going to come _looking_ for me or anything. It’s a large crowd, it’s not like it’ll be obvious when I leave.”

“Not look for you?” Jefferson scoffed. “Didn’t you see her face when she saw you? It was like she was looking at Santa, a unicorn, and, I dunno, a cart full of free books all at once. She was thrilled!”

Gold rolled his eyes. “She was probably just amazed to see me do anything a human might do. I’m sure her friend is talking some sense into her now and they’re sharing a good laugh.”

“Will you just accept the fact that the girl _likes_ you?” Jefferson asked, laughing. “I mean come on, I don’t think you realize the allure you have…”

“Stop it.”

“He’s right,” Victor agreed, his finger touching his chin thoughtfully. “You have a certain je ne sais quoi.”

Archie nodded, as well.

“I will evict all of you.”

“You’re not my landlord,” Jefferson said.

“I will buy your house…and then I will evict you.”

“Love you too, man.”

 

“Belle, what the hell?” Ruby said, dragging her friend by the arm over to a tent where they were passing out literature.

“ _What_?” Belle asked. “And could you stop yanking my arm?”

“You were…mooning all over Gold! And what is he even _doing_ here? We don’t want people like him and Jefferson here!”

“A: I wasn’t _mooning_ over Mr. Gold. B: Dr. Whale and Dr. Hopper are military veterans too. Your own grandmother was a combat nurse.”

“A nurse is very different from a soldier,” Ruby argued. “And Victor and Archie were drafted. Gold and Jefferson enlisted.”

“How would you even know that?” Belle asked. “And what does it matter? World War II was entirely different from Vietnam, and wanting to serve your country is anything but a crime!”

“ _All_ war is wrong!” Ruby insisted, picking up a folded paper from the table. “Says so right here in this pamphlet that _you_ wrote.”

“I didn’t say that that war was somehow right, but it was a different time then. And our fight is against the government for sending our friends to the front lines, _not_ against the soldiers in battle. They all deserve our respect.”

“Sounds like hypocrisy to me.”

“It’s not hypocrisy, Ruby, it’s just knowing what you’re really fighting for. Sometimes I don’t think you even know what you’re fighting for.”

Ruby scowled, putting her hands on her hips. “Who’re you to tell me what I know or don’t know? Maybe _you’re_ the one who doesn’t know what she’s fighting for!”

“At least I’m not trying to tell you who to be friends with!”

Ruby flapped her hands in the air with a growl and stalked away without another word. Belle fumed, wanting to follow her to yell at her some more, but knowing that it was best to let her go before they said things they’d regret.

“What’s wrong love?”

Belle groaned inwardly…and a little outwardly…cringing when she felt a heavy arm sling around her shoulder. “Go away, Killian.”

“Maybe you two should just kiss and make up?” Killian suggested slyly.

Belle shoved his arm off of her. “It would happen long before I kissed you.”

Killian held up a plastic cup, filled with some unknown liquid. “Here, the rally is a hit. That’s all that matters, right? You should celebrate!”

Belle eyed the cup wryly, glancing down at the joint in his other hand. “No, thanks.”

“It’s _beer_ ,” Killian said with a roll of his eyes. “And I haven’t even taken a sip. Mellow out, will you?”

But Belle still refused to accept the cup, until Gaston snatched it away, took an obvious sip of it himself, before offering it to her again. Belle sighed and took the drink. “Shouldn’t you all be getting back on stage?”

“Kiss for luck?” Killian asked, leaning forward.

“ _Go_ ,” Belle groaned, turning away.

Gaston shrugged apologetically and followed his friend toward the stage. Belle growled in frustration, taking a large sip of beer. It was good, and the alcohol was quick to soothe her rattled nerves. She was angry at Ruby, and by extension didn’t especially want to go hang out with their mutual friends. From where she stood she could see Ashley, Thomas, Aurora, and Philip dancing dazedly, and she frowned at the realization that they were on something.

She’d experimented lightly with marijuana years prior, but had decided quite firmly that she didn’t like the feeling. She didn’t judge others for it, of course, and she didn’t mind her friends smoking, but she strongly suspected that some of them had begun to move on to much more dangerous drugs, and _that_ she didn’t like at all.

She could see Ariel and her boyfriend, Eric, too, but they were locked in an embrace that was quickly becoming indecent, so Belle certainly didn’t want to interrupt them.

She decided finally to see if she couldn’t hunt down Mr. Gold and his friends again. She hadn’t known that the four of them were friends, but it made sense to her, all four veterans of the same war.

Belle wandered back toward the back of the concert, guessing that they probably hadn’t moved that far, sipping her beer as she went. She thought about what Jefferson had said about the reason Gold had come. Had he really shown up just for her? But then, why else would he have come? He’d made no secret of his disdain for HEN and the rallies. And he was perfectly entitled to his opinion. And he certainly had no love for anyone else here, so why else would he come if not _just_ for her?

It was a heady feeling, and Belle took another sip, fortifying her courage and imagining all the ways she could thank him for coming.

She giggled to herself, then giggled again because the first one sounded funny.

Was it her imagination or did the music start sounding better? She looked up at the stage and immediately regretted it, because the lights started…swirling…on their own.

Her mouth felt dry, so she took another sip, but the cup felt weird in her hand. She looked down, staring hard at her nearly-empty beer, fear sinking into her gut.

She had no doubt that Killian would try something as skeevy as drugging her, but surely Gaston wouldn’t do that to her? He could be a jerk at times, but he wasn’t cruel. He’d taken a sip…hadn’t he?

Belle kept walking, dropping the cup and dimly feeling the rest of its contents splash her legs. She thought maybe she could just walk it off…just keep walking…snap _out_ of it, Belle! Mind over matter!

She had apparently started walking into the crowd instead of around it, and the push of moving bodies swarmed around her like waves over a rock. They all squirmed around her…like worms. She was in a pit of worms…or maybe snakes…

A snake person in front of her was talking to her, and she blinked dumbly until the snake turned into Ashley.

“I think I need help,” Belle said, and her voice sounded wrong, like someone else was talking for her and she was just a puppet.

“What’s wrong?” Ashley asked, but her voice sounded far…far away.

“I have to get out of here!” Belle yelled. “Everything is wrong! God…the colors are too bright!”

Ashley laughed, but it sounded like a hyena. “Belle! Are you tripping?! Righteous! Sean, come check it out!”

Belle shook her head, pushing away from the hyena. The music felt like it was pressing on her…she actually _felt_ it…

She was vaguely aware that she was hyperventilating, but she could barely feel it.

“What’s a matter, love?”

Belle frowned, squinting her eyes to make out the shape of Killian before her. They were on the outskirts of the crowd, and she didn’t remember getting there, but the music was still playing. Who was on stage if Killian wasn’t?

“What did you give me?” she asked, and her voice sounded like a rock. She giggled, how could a voice sound like a rock?

Killian giggled too, which made her laugh some more.

“Come ‘ere, love, I’ll make you feel better.”

She felt something warm and slimy on her neck. A slug! She had a slug on her neck! She wriggled away from it, trying to dislodge its biting teeth. “No!” she moaned.

“You’re going to want to release her… _immediately_!”

All at once the slug was gone, and Belle blinked dazedly as something she didn’t fully understand happened in front of her. Killian was on his back, yelling at a dark figure standing menacingly above him. But, strangely enough, the menacing dark figure instilled no fear in her. In fact, it made her feel calm, so she stared hard at it, willing it to stay within sight and not leave her in this pit of snakes, hyenas, and slugs.

“Belle? Belle, hon, are you ok?” the voice talking to her wasn’t a bad sound, not a hyena or a snake or a slug, but it wasn’t coming from the dark thing, so she ignored it.

“Adam! Get over here! She’s wigged out on something!”

“Belle?” the voice talking to her now filled her with such a warm feeling, that she wanted to cry, so she leaned toward it hungrily. A face loomed into her field of vision and she finally recognized the dark figure for who he was.

“Mr. Gold!” she cried out, flinging herself at him. He grunted softly, but his arms came around her at once and held her. “Tighter,” she begged into his chest. “I’m gonna fall apart!”

The arms tightened obligingly, and she breathed in relief.

“Jefferson!” he snapped. “Go back and get Whale! Now!”

“Don’t leave me,” Belle mumbled, feeling sleepy.

“Never, my Belle,” he said softly. “I’ve got you. You’re safe. I promise.”


	3. Chapter 3

Archie returned with two cups in each hand, looking harried. “I was offered a recreational drug _three times_ on my way to the refreshment stand and back.”

“Careful, Arch,” Victor said, accepting his cup with a nod. “Some loose girl is gonna try to take advantage of you!”

Archie turned red around the ears, but rolled his eyes.

Gold stared dubiously into his own cup. “Do we even trust this beer?”

“It came from a keg,” Archie said. “So unless you suspect me, I think it’s safe.”

Gold sipped the beer, unsurprised to find it rather weak, and casually scanned the crowd for Belle.

“No sign of her from my vantage,” Jefferson said, proving that he wasn’t being that casual. Gold knew that his comment wasn’t a dig at his diminutive height, but it was a simple fact that where Gold was on the short side, Jefferson towered above the heads of most everyone in town. His penchant for wearing old fashioned top hats only served to make him look even taller.

“This music is giving me a headache,” Archie complained.

“I think it’s charitable to call it music,” Victor said.

“It’s too bad Belle didn’t know, she could have had some _real_ musicians here tonight!”

“Shut up, Jefferson.”

“Who?” Archie asked.

Jefferson waggled his thumb between himself and Gold. “You should have seen us back when we were on R&R together. _This_ guy here could have had any skirt he could possibly have wanted if he’d been of a mind. The second he stepped behind a piano and opened his mouth, girls were practically throwing their panties at him.”

“ _Shut up, Jefferson_.”

“Seriously?” Victor said, amazed. “You, Gold? You’re a musician?”

“ _Was_ ,” Gold corrected firmly, inwardly seething.

“I played the trumpet,” Jefferson said proudly. “Still do, in my spare time. But God, Gold, I miss playing with you!”

“What do you know?” Victor said. “I play the drums! As a hobby, of course. I’m not that good. But Arch here is a wiz on the bass.”

“You’re kidding!” Jefferson gushed. “Gold! Can you imagine?! We could start up our own band! Belle would _flip_!”

“You are out of your damned mind, Jefferson,” Gold deadpanned, but secretly, though he would never had any intention of joining, he rather liked the idea of the three of them banning together to play. Jefferson had true talent that had been wasted by the trauma of war, and he would like to see the man actually happy again. Never had Jefferson…never had _either_ of them, been quite as happy as when they were playing music.

“Adam…” Jefferson said very suddenly, snapping Gold out of his musings with a terrified start due to the rare use of his first name. He was staring out past the crowd at something Gold couldn’t see, and was moving before Gold could ask what it was.

He knew, before Jefferson called out something to him over his shoulder, that there could only be one thing at that festival that could cause such a reaction. “Belle!”

It wasn’t long before Gold could see what Jefferson saw. Jones had left the stage, leaving the other two to carry on without him, not that it made much difference. He had Belle cornered beneath a copse of trees, pressed up against the trunk of one.

She was moving slightly, breath coming in quick pants, but not appearing like she was trying to get away as Jones’ mouth laved at her neck, and for a sickening moment Gold thought she was accepting his advances. He supposed all her apparent disgust could have been an act. Maybe she didn’t like Jones, but that didn’t necessarily mean she wasn’t _attracted_ to him, and for some people, especially younger people, sometimes sex was just sex. But it saddened him, though he knew it shouldn’t. She didn’t belong to him.

Jefferson had hesitated too, unsure of the situation. “Something’s not right,” he said. “We should at least make sure she’s ok.”

“But she…”

Just then, Belle’s hands rose to Jones’ chest, pushing weakly, and she moaned a low “No…”

That was all it took for him, and he strode over toward them faster than a man with a cane had any right to. Once he was close, he could see that Belle’s face was pale, and her eyes were wide in fear. He didn’t know why she wasn’t fighting, but she sure as hell didn’t want this.

He grabbed Jones’ shoulder in a crushing grip, yanking him roughly away from her. “You’re going to want to release her… _immediately_ ,” he hissed dangerously.

Jones let her go, stumbling back with a curse. He swung around, raising his fist as if to strike, but Gold was faster; hitting him upside the head with his cane. He went down like a bag of rocks.

“Belle? Belle, hon, are you okay?” Jefferson was saying while Gold stared down murderously at Jones, contemplating hitting him a few more times for good measure. He’d not felt such a violent inclination since…since…well, a long time ago.

“Adam!” Jefferson yelled, snapping Gold out of his haze of fury. “Get over here! She’s wigged out on something!”

Instantly, all thoughts of violence were gone completely, and it was only after he stopped that he realized that he’d been shaking. Belle was staring directly at him, eyes wider than he’d ever seen, the pupils blown so wide that he couldn’t even see the blue.

“Belle?” Gold said softly, approaching her carefully. She was hyperventilating and shaking like a leaf. He didn’t know what Jefferson had meant at first by “wigging out,” but he could see right away that something was very, very wrong with her.

Once he was right in front of her, her eyes cleared slightly, focusing on his face. “Mr. Gold?” she whimpered, and before he could react, he found himself with his arms full of her, shuddering against his chest. His arms went about her automatically, and she pressed her face into his shirt. “Tighter,” she cried, and he didn’t know what that meant until she followed it by, “I’m gonna fall apart!”

So he tightened his hold, feeling like he was surely crushing the poor thing, but she only sighed in relief, her breath finally evening out, though her heart was beating at a rate that had his lurching in fear.

“Jefferson!” he said sharply. “Go back and get Whale! Now!”

Jefferson turned and ran without another word, and Gold walked with Belle in a strange sort of dance, to get her farther away from Jones and closer to a torch where he could see her better.

“Don’t leave me,” she whimpered softly into his chest.

“Never, my Belle,” he whispered, pressing his lips to the top of her head. “I’ve got you. You’re safe. I promise.”

He continued to murmur comforting words into her hair until Jefferson returned with Whale and Archie. “What happened to her?” Whale asked urgently, trying to get a look at her face, but she just kept burrowing into Gold.

“Killian Jones was harassing her,” Jefferson said. “But she’s high on something. She couldn’t fight him off, so Gold…” Jefferson gestured toward the unconscious lump a few feet away.

“I’ll go call the sheriff,” Archie said, darting away.

“Belle?” Whale spoke gently to her, no longer trying to pull her away from Gold when all that seemed to do was worsen her panic. “Belle? What did you take, Belle? It’s ok, just tell me.”

Belle cried, and grabbed a fistful of Gold’s shirt at his side, catching his skin in the process, but he ignored the pain. “Sweetheart, please, it’s ok. No one will think anything of it, just tell us what it was so we can help you,” he turned to Whale, trying to keep his own panic out of his voice. “How could this have happened? She was just talking to us half an hour ago at most and she was fine, then.”

“Some of this shit can take effect really quickly,” Whale said, managing to maneuver her face so that he could look into her eyes. “She’s out of it, but awake and on her feet. I don’t think she’s overdosed. Probably just needs to sleep it off. Belle? Do you feel like you need to go to the hospital?”

“No hospital,” Belle moaned, turning her face away from him.

“Belle, dear, maybe you ought to go…” Gold said, stroking her hair. “Just to be sure.”

She pushed away from him then, but only to the point of standing up straight on her own. “No,” she repeated firmly. “Papa will find out…and I’ll never hear the end of it…oh God…Jefferson could you stop yelling?!”

Gold and Whale looked at Jefferson, who’d been standing there silently the whole time. “Sorry,” he said quietly.

“Dr. Whale,” Sheriff Nolan said, approaching the group with Archie at his side. “Everything ok, here?”

“Bad trip,” Whale said, indicating Belle. “I don’t think it’s serious, I just wish she could tell us exactly what she took so we can be sure. Probably acid, though, by the looks of it.”

“I _didn’t_ ,” Belle slurred, eyes drooping.

“Miss French, please,” Nolan said calmly. “We don’t have to take this matter any farther than right here. You’re not in trouble. Just be honest so the doctor can help.”

“But I _didn’t_.” she insisted. “I drank beer…that’s… _he_ gave it to me…”

“Who did? Who gave you beer, Belle?”

She blinked in confusion for a moment before pointing over to where Jones was still unconscious. “Slug.”

“Belle! What’s going on?” Ruby along with several others were running over, and Gold had to reclaim his hold on Belle because it looked like she wanted to run away.

“Snakes!” Belle cried, ducking back into Gold’s jacket, almost literally burying herself under it.

“This young woman claims she was given a drugged beverage,” Nolan said. “Do you know anything about this?”

Ruby gasped. “What?! No! Belle doesn’t do drugs! Who would…Belle, are you okay?” she tried to approach her, to pull her away from Gold, but Belle flinched violently away and Gold tightened his grip protectively in response.

“Oh no,” it was Gaston, come fresh from the stage. At this point, most of the gathering was watching them. “It was my fault! I took a sip to show her it was ok, I swear I had no idea!”

“Then why aren’t you high?” Gold asked him accusingly.

“Look at him,” Jefferson said. “He _is_.”

“Alright, alright, I’m pulling the plug on this,” Nolan said. “Everyone go home _now_ or I’m bringing out the cuffs!”

And just like that, the sizable crowd dispersed, fleeing the scene faster than a flock of birds, dragging their more inebriated friends with them.

Gaston and Smith went to pick up Killian and pull him away, but they were stopped by the Sheriff. “Not you two, I have some questions for you. And Whale, you might should come have a look at this one.”

“I didn’t hit him _that_ hard,” Gold said, quietly enough that the Sheriff couldn’t hear.

“Judging by the smell I think the blow to his head was the least of his problems,” Jefferson said.

“What about Belle?” Gold asked Whale.

“Well she can’t be alone,” Whale said. “Someone needs to sit with her through the night.”

“I’ll take her to my place,” Ruby said, reaching for her again. “Her dad’ll wig if he sees her like this.”

Although he hated to let her go, Gold removed his hands from around Belle to allow her friend to take her, but Belle cried out; a heartbreaking little sound, and clung on tighter.

“No! She’s a snake!”

“A snake…” Ruby stammered. “Belle, honey…”

“She’s hallucinating,” Whale said unnecessarily. “She doesn’t know what she’s saying.”

“We had a fight just before this happened,” Ruby said, tearing up. “Belle, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t leave me,” Belle whimpered to Gold.

Gold sighed. It was highly improper, but he desperately wanted to just get her away from there. “I’ll take her,” he said.

“Take her _where_?” Ruby asked suspiciously.

“To my _house_ ,” he snapped at her. “You can come with us, and perhaps when her head clears a little she’ll let you take her home.”

Ruby seemed to debate with herself inwardly, before nodding begrudgingly.

 

Gold, Jefferson, Ruby, and Belle made their way to Jefferson’s car after Whale detailed to them what to watch out for as Belle came off the drug, to make sure she stayed hydrated, and to keep her on her side in case she vomited. He promised to phone if they managed to get the type of drug out of Jones.

Ruby climbed into the front seat with Jefferson while Gold manhandled Belle into the back. She balked at first, declaring the vehicle unbelievably rude, but when Gold got in first, she followed instantly, clinging to him like a koala.

“He saved her from Jones,” Jefferson told Ruby. “He’s her knight in shining armor right now, so he makes her feel safe.”

Ruby couldn’t argue with that, seeing it clearly for herself, and her scowl relaxed.

Gold noticed that Belle was staring wide-eyed out the window, and he gently pulled her head back to his shoulder lest she make herself sick.

They were all silent as they climbed the steps to Gold’s home, slowly since Gold had to handle his cane and bad leg on one side, and a clinging koala on the other.

“Pink!” she blurted out, staring at the home. “Mr. Gold, why is it pink?”

“It’s salmon,” Gold defended.

Belle giggled. “That’s the biggest fish I’ve ever seen! Is it going to eat us?!”

“Yes, sweetheart,” he said, figuring it was pointless to attempt to correct her. “But it’s ok, it’s nice and warm in the fish’s belly.”

“Oh good. I’m cold.”

When they entered the house, her wide, unfocused eyes looked all around, but then so did Ruby’s.

“Wooow,” Belle said in wonder. “So many things! She focused on a small clock sitting on a table in the foyer, next to an antique candelabra. “Pardon? Well, no, I haven’t seen a teapot, not today at least.”

“Oh my God, Belle,” Ruby said, laughing.

“It isn’t funny,” Gold snapped.

“It’s kind of funny,” Jefferson offered.

“Yeah, Mr. Gold!” Belle said, also laughing. “I mean…I mean…what did Jefferson call you? He called you by a name. Not Gold. Not any other color either.”

“Adam,” Jefferson provided helpfully, ignoring Gold’s scowl.

“Adam!” Belle exclaimed. “Adam Gold. Are you rich, Adam Gold? Because your name has gold in it. If you weren’t rich, your name should be…should be…”

“Broke?” Ruby suggested.

“Broke! But you’re not broken, Adam Gold. You’re just right.”

“Alright, that’s quite enough of that,” Gold said, before addressing the others. “You two go make her some coffee or tea. I’m going to get her into bed.”

Belle gave a scandalized gasp, a hand fluttering dramatically over her chest. “Adam Gold! You haven’t even bought me dinner yet!”

Ruby and Jefferson cracked up while Gold’s face flamed. He ignored the others’ merriment and guided Belle’s stumbling form up the stairs to his room. He had a guest room, and a room set aside for Neal, but the guest room bed wasn’t made up, and his own sheets were freshly laundered, plus he was loath to place an intoxicated woman in his son’s bed without permission.

“Here we are,” Gold said, steering her toward the bed.

“Whose room is this? she asked.

Gold sighed. “Mine, but it’s quite alright. You’ll be comfortable here.”

Belle fell into the bed, shoes and all, and snuggled against his pillow in a way that was so adorable, he almost choked.

He sat down beside her, gently removing her shoes, and the feathers from her ears and tangled hair. The daisy on her cheek had been reduced to an ugly smeared blur, and for some reason, the sight of it on her pale, drawn face made his anger resurface anew. He quickly bopped to the attached bathroom and returned with a cool, damp washcloth. He dabbed carefully at the flower, wiping it away, before oh-so-gently washing the rest of her face.

She lay still the whole time, closing her eyes with a dreamy smile on her face. For a moment, all he could do was stare at that face, and marvel at her trust in him, even in the throes of a hallucinogenic. He was just contemplating the removal of her vest and wondering if perhaps he should have Ruby come up to change her out of her dress when he looked down and realized that said dress had become rucked up around her hips, giving him full view of white lace panties that provided absolutely no covering of what lay beneath.

Blushing like a schoolboy, he snatched up a quilt at the foot of the bed and covered her with it, mentally berating himself for the depraved thoughts that were suddenly racing through his mind.

“How is she?” Ruby asked, making him jump and flush all over again. “Sorry,” she said sheepishly. “But I brought up some tea. She likes tea better than coffee at night.”

“I think she’s asleep,” he said. “But let’s try to get her up, she needs some liquid in her.”

Sat on either side of her, Gold and Ruby pulled a protesting Belle into a sitting position. “Drink some tea, love,” Gold said, holding the teacup up to her lips.

“Don’t call me that,” she grumbled. “The slug called me that.”

“My apologies, Belle,” he amended contritely.

“You can still call me nice names,” she pouted at him. “I liked sweetheart.”

Gold blushed, and then some more when Ruby noticed and smirked. “Sweetheart, drink the tea?”

Belle sipped the tea obediently after that, though that had to keep reminding her to finish it.

“I suppose you’ll want to sit with her?” Gold asked Ruby, thought it tore at him.

“Yeah,” Ruby said. “I’ll stay.”

“I’ll come check in a few hours,” Gold said. “In case you need to sleep.”

Ruby smiled at him, a genuine smile. “Thanks, ‘Adam Gold’.”

Gold rolled his eyes before setting Belle’s empty cup on the nightstand and grabbing his cane. He was halfway to the door when Belle’s eyes flew back open with a gasp and she started trying to struggle to her feet. The quilt however, wrapped around her legs, and she cried out in alarm. “Let go of me!”

In her upset, she rolled over, her arm flinging out and swiping the cup off the nightstand, which landed on the rug with a thud.

Belle got very still all of a sudden, staring off the side of the bed. Before they could stop her, she’d untangled herself from the quilt and was kneeling by the cup, which had apparently chipped in the fall.

“Oh no…” she whimpered, tearing up. “You’re chipped! Are you ok? Speak to me!”

Gold knelt beside her, wrapping his hand around hers that held the cup. “Belle, sweetheart, it’s okay. It’s just a cup.”

“You were leaving,” she accused, tears still welling in her eyes. “You said you wouldn’t.”

And Lord, how those eyes could unman him with a look. “I’m sorry, Belle…I…” he looked over at Ruby helplessly as she peered down at them from the bed.

“He was only going to get you a shirt to wear, to sleep in,” Ruby finished for him.

“Oh,” Belle said simply before unceremoniously yanking her dress over her head.

Gold fell back on his ass, slamming his eyes shut, but not before he got an eyeful of pale, smooth skin and _no brassier_.

Ruby squealed in astonishment and he could hear her scramble off the bed to try and stop Belle, or cover her, one.

“Wow, Belle, let’s save that for later, huh? Maybe for when I’m _not_ around?” Ruby cackled, only furthering Gold’s embarrassment. “Uh, Gold? Think we could get that shirt?”

With his eyes still closed, Gold stumbled to his feet with difficulty, biting back a curse when he stubbed a toe on his good foot on the leg of the bed. He didn’t open his eyes though until he was facing away from the bed and the naked Belle. He hurried to his chest of drawers and pulled out a soft flannel button-down pajama shirt. It was a little big on him, so he knew it would be plenty long enough to cover Belle. He would dare-say it would do a better job than her dress. He tossed it over his shoulder, hearing Ruby laugh, and then a few moments of rustling and Belle whining before Ruby told him it was safe to turn around.

When he did turn around, Belle was tucked into his bed, under the covers, wearing his shirt, looking sleepy and content. He gulped, and wondered if he was glad for or cursed the presence of a third person.

“I guess it’s on you,” Ruby said. “Mind if I crash on your couch?”

“You’re leaving?!” Gold exclaimed, his voice cracking like a pre-adolescent boy.

“Well, yeah, three’s a crowd, don’t you think? And Belle has clearly chosen,” she eyed him speculatively. “You know? If you were any other guy I know, I wouldn’t dream of leaving Belle alone with you when she was like this. But I actually am convinced that you’re not gonna lay a hand on her. Not _now_ anyway.”

“Of course not!” Gold exclaimed, opting to ignore the last part of her statement. “But surely this isn’t…proper. Belle would be horrified when she wakes up!”

Ruby rolled her eyes. “She’ll probably be embarrassed, yeah, but not because of that. I’m gonna go see if there’s anything on that big TV of yours and see if Jefferson wants to hang loose with me to keep me awake, so I can come relieve you in a few hours.”

“Sleep if you need to,” Gold said, relenting. “I’ll come wake you if I can’t stay awake.”

“You’re a solid guy, Mr. Gold, a real gone cat.”

“I’m just going to assume that those are good things.”

Ruby chuckled and flashed him a peace sign, before leaving the bedroom and shutting the door behind her.

“Adam?” Belle whimpered.

Gold rushed to her side, sitting beside her on the bed and petting her hair. “I’m here.”

Her wide eyes were glaring daggers over his shoulder. “I don’t like the way that window is looking at me.”

Gold sighed, and, despite himself, chuckled. Only Belle could be this adorable while under the influence of drugs. Not that he’d ever want a repeat of all this. He made a show of closing the curtains, to block away the offending window, and returned to her side.

“Lay down with me?” she asked sleepily.

“I uh…think it’s better if I sit up,” he said nervously. “So I won’t fall asleep.”

“But it feels better when you’re holding me. Other…otherwise I might break apart.”

Well, there was no way humanly possible he could deny her at that, so that’s how Adam Gold found himself in bed with the woman he was rapidly falling in love with.

 

Belle groaned, feeling like her head was just going to pop off and roll away, and she had a disgusting taste in her mouth.

A pair of strong, warm arms tightened around her, and she stiffened in panic. The last thing she remembered clearly was realizing that Killian had spiked her drink. Bile rose in her throat at the thought of waking in his bed.

Her eyes flew open, and she found herself face-to-face with, not Killian, but Mr. Gold. She felt dizzy with relief, but it was quickly replaced with confusion, and a different sort of panic.

Had they _slept_ together? Like, _slept_ slept together? She took a quick stock of herself, finding that though she wasn’t wearing her dress from the night before, she was still wearing underwear, and she felt that, with her lack of experience, she would _know_ if she’d had her “cherry popped” the night before.

Bits and pieces of the night before came back to her, though she knew some of it wasn’t real, like the snakes and talking clock. Some of it she _hoped_ wasn’t real, like basically crawling all over Mr. Gold and saying horrifyingly forward things to him. She also vaguely remembered waking in the night convinced that they were in an enchanted castle, and Mr. Gold had turned into some kind of magical lizard man with a strange voice. But instead of scary he’d been comforting, and she remembered telling him over and over how pretty his sparkly skin was. What had she kept calling him? Bumble? Rumple?

Mr. Gold’s, not Rumple’s, eyes opened suddenly, and she held her breath, both because she wasn’t sure what was about to happen, and also because they were practically nose-to-nose and she _knew_ her breath had to be positively foul.

Gold sat up, and the sudden movement made her groan. “Belle!” he exclaimed, but softly. “How are you feeling?”

“Horrible,” she admitted. “What _happened_ last night?”

“You don’t remember?” he asked, scooting over until he was only sitting on the bed, with his feet on the floor.

“A little,” she said. “I remember realizing only after my beer was almost gone that Killian must have spiked it, and I remember asking to…stay with you. I’m so sorry, Mr. Gold.”

“Sorry?” he breathed. “You have nothing to be sorry for sw…Belle. It’s that Jones boy who should be sorry.”

“But I practically forced you to take care of me,” she said miserably. “I’m remembering that right, aren’t I? I wouldn’t let Ruby stay with me?”

“You were confused and frightened,” Gold said. “I happened to be the first one to come to your rescue, though I wasn’t the only one. I was more than happy to do whatever I could to make you feel safe.”

Belle felt tears sting her eyes. “Thank you.”

Gold smiled, then patted her leg near her ankle. “You stay here, rest, and drink this water,” he gestured to a glass on the nightstand. I’ll go downstairs and see about breakfast, hm?”

Belle nodded, reaching for the water immediately. He wasn’t gone five minutes before Ruby entered, followed by Jefferson.

“And how’s our little psychedelic flower child?” Jefferson asked.

“Funny,” Ruby deadpanned, elbowing him in the ribs. “Are you feeling better, Belle?”

Belle tilted her head, wondering at the friendly behavior between the two. As far as she knew, they’d never even spoken before last night. “Better,” Belle said weakly. “Thank you both for your help last night.”

“You were a gas,” Jefferson said, laughing. “Let me know if you ever decide to imbibe again, I want to come watch!”

“Jefferson!” both women snapped, and he held up his hands in apology.

“I’m sure I was quite the sight,” Belle said, grimacing. “It was horrible, though. Everything was terrifying and it was like I could _feel_ sounds!”

“Hugs, not drugs, honey,” Ruby said.

Belle snorted. “Indeed. Did I really cry over breaking a teacup?”

Ruby chuckled. “You thought you’d killed it.”

That reminded Belle of something else, and she inhaled a slow, deep gasp. “Oh my God…”

“What?” Ruby asked worriedly, rushing to her side.

“Ruby…please, _please_ tell me I didn’t strip in front of Mr. Gold.”

Ruby winced, and Belle turned to bury her face in the pillow (the pillow that smelled just like Gold) and screamed, while Jefferson howled with laughter.

 

After that, Gold had served everyone a delicious breakfast – served in his bedroom while they all sat on his bed – and then Belle excused herself to shower before being banished back to the bed, where she was kept all morning until Dr. Whale was able to stop by and check on her. He declared her alive, and told her to take it easy the rest of the weekend, and drink plenty of water.

He’d also said that Killian, Gaston, and Smith had been arrested, that Gaston and Smith had been bailed out right away, but Killian was still sitting in a cell last he heard. Belle was glad to hear it.

“I can’t believe I let them play at my rally,” Belle said miserably. “They ruined everything.”

“It was my fault,” Ruby said. “I’m the one who talked you into giving them the gig.”

“But _I’m_ the leader,” Belle insisted. “It’s on me.”

“So we’ll do damage control,” Ruby said. “Get back out there. We can’t let this stop us.”

“Miss Lucas is right,” Gold said. “Don’t let a group of idiots and a bad experience stop you.”

“Really?” she asked, smiling. “You don’t even buy into our cause.”

“But you do, and I’d hate to ever see you lose your passion.”

“You won’t.”

 

Belle left Mr. Gold’s house that afternoon after a heartfelt thanks and a warm hug, wishing she could do a bit more to thank him, but not with Jefferson and Ruby grinning at them that way.

“I’m sorry for the way I talked about him,” Ruby said as they walked arm in arm down the sidewalk, just in case Belle got unsteady on her feet. Jefferson had offered them a ride, but Belle wanted to get some fresh air to more fully clear her head before seeing her father.

“Mr. Gold,” Ruby clarified. “He’s not the monster the town makes him out to be. But you’ve always known that, haven’t you?”

Belle nodded. “Mr. Gold has always been kind to me. Why me and no one else, I’ll never know. But then again, I’m seeing now that I’m _not_ the only one, am I? Did you know Gold and Jefferson were friends?”

“Can’t say I did. But Jefferson knew his way around that house like it was his own, so he’s obviously spent time there. I’ve heard they were stationed together at some point during the war. Though, I no longer can take any stock in what I hear.”

“Could be true, though,” Belle said. “I think Mr. Gold is really a kind person, I think maybe he’s just been through a lot. I also think he’s lonely.”

“Oh, I know that tone of voice,” Ruby said slyly. “You’re going to start peeling back those layers, huh?”

Belle smiled. “If he’ll let me, I would love to.”


	4. Chapter 4

In the days following the disastrous rally, Belle filed a report against Killian, but he was claiming that he had no clue that the beer was spiked, either, and that he, too, had been drugged without his consent. Unfortunately, it was found out that one of the kegs was indeed spiked with an LSD drug, and no one could prove who did it.

Belle kept quiet within HEN, intending to let the public just sort of forget about the drug-laden orgy her rally had become. She tried to just focus on work and the occasional hours she was able to volunteer at the town’s small library.

She didn’t go see Gold right away, feeling shy and uncertain about where they were in their relationship, if it could be called one. After what they’d gone through together, she could definitely say they were more than acquaintances. But she couldn’t be sure if he _wanted_ to get to know her more, or if he’d been completely turned off by her that night.

“You should _go_!” Ruby pleaded with her, having turned a complete 180 on her opinion of the man since that fateful night. Though she still cautioned that they were very different people, and a relationship might have issues, she was suddenly Belle’s biggest cheerleader in her pursuit. “Don’t wait too long, he might think you feel weird about what happened!”

“I _do_ feel weird,” Belle said. “But not because of anything he did, just because I don’t know where this leaves us!”

“Well, there’s one way to find out!”

 

So Belle found herself standing at the door to Mr. Gold’s pawnshop, dressed conservatively in bellbottom jeans and a loose blouse. She still hadn’t quite gotten over her embarrassment that she’d stripped naked right in front of him, and wasn’t sure if she was thankful or disappointed when Ruby told her that he’d immediately turned his head.

She opened the door, hearing the cheerful ding of the bell, but almost turned right back around when she saw that not only was Jefferson present, but so were Dr. Whale and Dr. Hopper.

“Come on, old man!” Jefferson was saying, to an unimpressed Gold, not having heard her come in. “Just think of how…”

“Jeff…” Whale nudged him, and they all four turned to look at her.

“Is this a bad time?” she asked weakly.

“No!” they all said at once, before Jefferson, Victor, and Archie were all scrambling over themselves to leave the shop.

After they’d all gone in a cloud of dust, Belle shifted on her feet awkwardly. “Wow, do I know how to clear a room, or what?” she joked, hoping to make him relax his tensed posture.

“Ignore them,” Gold said, not relaxing in the least. “They’re being idiotic. How are you Belle? Feeling okay?”

“Oh, I’m totally fine now,” she said with a wave of her hand. “But I’ve definitely learned my lesson about accepting drinks from people.”

“You shouldn’t have had to learn it that way,” he said darkly, and Belle shivered. Not in fear…but something else.

“Well, lucky for me you were there to save me,” she said, trying for coy.

He scoffed self-depreciatingly. “Jefferson is the one who saw that you were in trouble.”

“But you defended me from Killian, and you held and comforted me through the night. Not Jefferson.”

He opened his mouth to say something else, but shut it again, and for a moment they just stood there in awkward silence.

“I…got a couple new albums,” Gold said, changing the subject. “One is of some of Elvis’s lesser known songs, I think you might like.”

Belle grinned. “Can we listen to it?”

Gold jerked his head over toward where he kept the player, and Belle felt a giddy bubble of happiness to see that he’d moved a chaise lounge into the corner with it. He’d obviously hoped she’d come back to listen some more, and wanted them to have a place to sit.

So sit they did, listening to music, and discussing the evolution of rock-n-roll. The chaise was small, so they had to sit close together. Therefor it wasn’t hard for her to lay her head on his shoulder. She felt him stiffen, and hoped she hadn’t been reading him wrong. But then his arm came up and around her, and he pulled her even closer. That same feeling that she remembered through her drug-induced haze came back to her in a rush; a feeling of safety, rightness, and…she was almost afraid to think it, love.

 

 

 

When Belle had to finally leave to go to work at her father’s shop, Gold had to just sit on the lounge for a while and compose himself. He had hoped she hadn’t been able to tell just how much her closeness affected him. He thanked every deity he knew of that his body hadn’t betrayed him like this when she’d been in his bed, but at the time he had mostly just been worried about her.

This time, she’d come to him of her own free will, sound in mind and body. She’d asked to stay and listen to music, and had cuddled against him like it was the most natural thing in the world. And it _did_ feel natural, to put his arm around her and lean his head against hers, breathing in the fresh scent of her, feeling the warmth of her soft curves.

He needed to go talk to Jefferson.

Wait, where had _that_ thought come from? What was he, fifteen? Bad enough that he couldn’t just _sit_ next to the woman without getting excited, he wasn’t about to run off to gab about it! Besides, Jefferson and his new pals had nearly humiliated him in front of Belle. They’d ambushed him with this ridiculous idea to form a band. It was imbecilic.

Jefferson and Whale kept trying to use the excuse that it would impress Belle, but he knew that it would be more likely to embarrass her, especially if he actually did as they said and “write a song for her.” How horrifying.

Archie, at least, hadn’t been so aggressive, but he was obviously amenable to the idea himself.

“Why don’t you just do it without me?” he’d asked them. “You don’t need me.”

“But you’re the piano player,” Jefferson argued. “That’s the heart and soul of a band. And I daresay that you’re the best singer.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but you’ll have to find someone else. I don’t even play anymore. It’s been so long…I’ve probably forgotten how.”

“You haven’t forgotten,” Jefferson scoffed. “Those keys are part of you. Always have been.”

“Well, that part must have been the one to step on a land mine, because it’s gone.”

“Come on, Jefferson, he doesn’t want to do it,” Archie said then. “Don’t try to force him.”

But Jefferson had continued to plead until Belle walked in, which blessedly shut them up and chased them right out the door.

It was stupid. Pointless. Ridiculous. Music was something he’d let go of a long, long time ago, along with many other aspects of his life. All it would do at this point would be to serve as a reminder of the worst time in his life.

It was idiotic. But…

He glanced over at the covered upright. It hadn’t been tuned in a decade. Maybe it would actually sell if he uncovered it, cleaned it up, and tuned it.

Yes, he’d do that, then it would be sold and out of his life completely.

 

Belle and Gold continued to see each other, either when she visited his shop, or just about town. When he came to the diner, Ruby greeted him with a friendly smile. If Belle wasn’t there, either Victor or Archie or both usually were, and they always insisted that he sit with them. Gold found, much to his surprise, that he rather didn’t mind the doctor and the psychiatrist. Especially Archie, who was quiet, but once he opened up was a good conversationalist.

Several of the townsfolk wondered at this change, seeing the feared Mr. Gold making friends of all things, probably wondering what nefarious plans in had in mind. But he also found he didn’t really care about that either.

For her part, Belle was thrilled to see Gold smile occasionally and talk to people, showing them a side that so far only she had ever seen. He seemed more relaxed than she’d ever seen him before, and it was wonderful. Perhaps he hadn’t come fully out of his shell, but it was certainly a start.

 

One afternoon, after helping her father that morning and making plans for a small gathering for HEN – not a rally, just a meeting, and something to get them together again and hopefully mend some fences – she made her way to the pawnshop, twirling a yellow daisy between her fingers.

She could hear music playing before she even opened the door, and she smiled. She’d never caught him listening to music without her before, and she hoped that it meant that he was just in a good mood.

The sign on the door was flipped to ‘Closed’, but she didn’t let that stop her from turning the handle that was never locked as long as he was inside.

The piano music playing was some of the most beautiful she’d ever heard, and she was excited to ask him who it was. But once in the shop, she realized that the sound was clearer than any record she’d ever heard, and she slowly became aware of the fact that it was because it _wasn’t_ a recording.

Someone… _Gold_ …was sitting at the upright, and he was playing.

Belle froze on the spot, watching him from behind with her mouth hanging open. He’d said he’d played, but she hadn’t expected _this_. The melody was not one she recognized, but it seared through her skin and straight to her heart.

She didn’t think that music could _feel_ like that, like being literally caressed. It sent chills through her spine and brought tears to her eyes.

She must have made a sound, a gasp or something, because he suddenly stopped and turned around, eyes widening like he’d been caught doing something illicit.

“I…I was just…” he gestured to the piano nervously.

“Don’t stop,” she begged softly.

He stared at her for a long moment, then turned back around, and began to play again. It was a different song this time, a slower one, but just as hauntingly beautiful.

Belle walked slowly over to him, afraid to move too fast lest she disturb him again. She watched as his long fingers flew across the keys like they weren’t even touching them. She’d never seen anything like it.

At some point she sat down beside him, her back to the keys, but her eyes went back and forth between his hands and the intense look on his face, not sure which one she wanted to stare at more.

Eventually the song ended, and with a boyish smirk, he started up a jaunty tune that she quickly identified as _Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy_.

“ _He was a famous trumpet man from up Chicago way_ ,” she sang once she picked up the rhythm. “ _He had a boogie sound that no one else could play, he was the top man at his craft, but then his number came up, and he was gone with the draft. He’s in the Army now, a-blowin’ revelry; he’s the boogie woogie bugle boy of Company B_.”

Gold stopped suddenly and turned to her in surprise. “Belle…you sing wonderfully!”

She blushed. “Oh, gosh, thank you. But you…I had _no_ idea…why did you ever stop playing? You’re amazing!”

He sighed, shaking his head. “I played all the time as a boy after my aunts taught me. Piano, guitar, even a little violin. It was what attracted my wife to me in the first place.”

Belle’s breath caught in her throat. She’d honestly had no idea he’d ever been married. Stupid rumors of purchased Japanese brides notwithstanding. She was determined not to let it bother her, however. He had, after all, lived a whole life before she was even born.

“What happened?” she prompted softly.

“Well, the war happened. Before that I was just a poor farm boy, abandoned by his drunken father when I was seven and shipped to America to live with his equally poor, aged aunts. The depression hit, but we were self-sufficient enough that we got by on what I made at a textile factory. Milah and I…well, it was hardly a great love. She saw me playing guitar in a bar and came up to me and said, “Why don’t you buy me a drink?” So I did. We went steady, and it was easy I suppose. I was good with money and made a decent living in a time where the entire country was struggling. I guess, to her, I was security. And to me, she was…comfort. We married, and got on just fine. 

“When the war hit, and boys started getting called up…I thought that maybe enlisting before the draft could get me would make me seem courageous. Manly. So I did. And Milah, she was so proud of me. I even worked up in rank fairly quickly. I had a mind for statistics and strategies, and I was put on several secret missions. That’s how I met Jefferson. He was Special Ops. We gravitated toward each other, first because we both came from poor families and deadbeat fathers, were both considered something of prodigies of warfare, and then because of music. He was a trumpet player, started out in the Army as the bugle boy. That song is his favorite. But he has a brilliant, brilliant mind, and it was only a matter of time before it was noticed, and he shot up in rank faster than I did. He was responsible for missions that…well…that cost a lot of lives. On their side, and sometimes ours. There’s no way that wouldn’t affect a man, seeing so many people, innocent or no, die because of your actions. Because of _our_ actions.

“We were in Germany, following a lead that several POWs were being held in an old empty mill, way out in the country. We’d planned to go in with just our core group of ten, sneak in under the cover of dark, slit some necks and get our boys out of there with as little fuss as possible. But it had been a setup. There _were_ prisoners in the mill, but they were just bait. The place was littered in landmines, but luckily, Jefferson realized it before we got too close. We had no choice but to retreat, but I argued, saying that since we knew there were landmines, we could be careful enough to get in.

“Our Sergeant wouldn’t hear of it, said it would be suicide to attempt. But I got it into my damned head to play the hero, and I broke rank, and I headed for the mill alone. Jefferson tried to stop me, but in the end he wouldn’t let me go alone, so he followed. If we were detected before we got close enough to the mill, everyone would be dead for, so the Sergeant really had no choice but to follow…”

Gold hesitated, his throat convulsing as he fought back tears. “I stepped on one of the mines. It caused a chain reaction that set them all off. Two men were killed. Four others seriously injured, not counting myself. Jefferson, thank God, made it out with only temporary hearing loss.”

Belle looked down at the leg she knew he always favored, unable to imagine stepping on a landmine and somehow living to tell the tale. She wanted to ask, but didn’t dare. Didn’t dare to so much as speak in case it made him stop talking. She had a strong feeling that he _needed_ to get it all out, and he needed her to just listen.

Seeming to make up his mind about it, he took a deep breath and bent down slowly, then lifted his pants leg…

Revealing a wooden leg from the knee down.

Belle wanted to cry out in distress, but bit it back. She’d known of course that he had an injury, but she’d never known that he was missing a limb.

“I was shipped home, my injury being the only thing that saved me from a court martial for my actions on the battlefront. I was dishonorably discharged. Jefferson lost his position, and was eventually discharged with honor, but no medals. We learned later on that all of the POWs in that mill were killed.”

At this point, Belle couldn’t help but speak, tears streaming freely down her cheeks. “But you know that they were probably going to be killed no matter _what_ you did.”

“I know that. But if I’d just shut up and obeyed my commanding officer like I was supposed to, none of us would have been hurt. Those boys may still be _alive_ , and I’d still be a whole man.”

“You _are_ a whole man,” Belle insisted hotly, unable to help herself. She couldn’t dispute that he’d made a mistake all those years ago, but she would argue like hell that it took away at all from the man he was today. “Your leg makes no difference in that.”

He chuckled mirthlessly. “My wife didn’t think so.”

“What?”

He looked at her for the first time since he’d begun his tale, and Belle’s heart shattered at the pain reflected in his eyes. How long had he been holding all of it inside?

“She was ashamed of me, coming home a broken, battered shell of man. All the honor from having joined the army stripped from me. I couldn’t blame her. But when I got home, still recovering, she surprised me with a son,” just like that, his voice became slightly lighter. “We’d conceived him, apparently, on my last visit home. He was a year old already, and the most adorable little thing you’d ever seen in your life. So I had to try, try to heal, to live. For him. I swear, if it hadn’t been for him…there was a very dark time in my life that I probably would have…well…I wouldn’t be alive now, let’s leave it at that.”

Belle took a breath, trying to process all this new information. Mr. Gold had a son, who would be rather close to her in age, and she’d had no clue. “And your wife?” she asked, almost afraid of the answer judging by the way his expression darkened.

“In time she grew to hate me. Not only had I been kicked out of the Army, I couldn’t work. Couldn’t help chase Neal around once he got up and running. Couldn’t even please…and, well, I guess I didn’t make it easy on her. I was angry all the time when I wasn’t with Neal, and every little sound sent me into a panic. One day, when Neal was just barely four years old, I came home from the doctor to find them gone. Her things, Neal’s things, all the cash we kept saved, all gone. All there was, was a note saying she’d met someone else, and knew that I was in no condition to take care of a child on my own, so she’d taken Neal with her and she’d…” he choked, tears finally springing to his eyes. “find him a good home.”

“ _What_?!” Belle exclaimed. “She…she took him from you…and didn’t even _keep_ him?!”

Gold nodded. “I spent years searching for my boy, but Milah covered her tracks well,” he took a deep breath and smiled. “I _did_ find him though, my boy. I reached out to his adoptive family, fully expecting to have to fight tooth and nail to be able to see him, or else wait a couple more years until the lad turned eighteen. But they surprised me, by allowing me to meet and get to know him. Good people, the Darlings. They sent Neal to stay with me every summer once he turned sixteen. He lives in Boston now. He’s an artist.”

“That’s wonderful,” Belle enthused, happy that at least _that_ portion of his story had a happy ending. “How did I never…” she trailed off, suddenly remembering a sweet teenager with a mop of unruly brown hair. “Neal! I _do_ remember him! I never knew he was _your_ son!”

“Yes, well, I chose not to advertise it,” Gold said, shrugging. “Several people knew; Granny, Mayor Mills, the Nolans, Jefferson of course.”

“I remember when Jefferson moved here,” Belle said, wracking her memory of when she was a kid. “Why did he?”

Gold shrugged. “I never knew, exactly. The man had every reason to hate me. I ruined his career. But he…didn’t. So he moved here, and hasn’t left me alone since.”

“He cares about you,” Belle said firmly.

“I suppose.”

“And you care about _him_.”

“…I suppose.”

Belle smiled, reaching up to brush the hair out of his eyes, then let her fingers trail through it some more when she realized how soft it was. “It wasn’t fair, the way your wife treated you. She should have been supportive, taken _care_ of you. Love you.”

Gold sighed. “I suppose she never truly loved me. And I think I never truly loved her, either. It was young love not…true love…if such a thing exists.”

“You don’t think so?”

Gold met her eyes, and the look in them made her melt. “Maybe…maybe I do,” he said.

They were both hesitating, and Belle made up her mind that if either of them were going to move, it would have to be her, and she leaned forward, heart thundering, inwardly cheering when he mirrored her.

The first brush of his lips against hers was unlike anything Belle had ever felt. Oh, she’d been kissed plenty, by Gaston and a handful of other crushes in school and beyond. But this was _electric_ in a way she’d previously not thought possible, and they were barely even _touching_.

He made a low sound in his throat, and suddenly he was _kissing_ her, teeth grazing her lower lip, tongue running along it until she happily let him in. She dug her hands into his hair and held on for dear life, moaning in approval when his hands slid around her waist.

After a few minutes, they broke apart, gasping for air. She grinned, and he responded in kind, smiling bigger than she ever seen from him.

“Adam…” she began, venturing to use that ‘forbidden’ first name, when a piercing sound filled the air. She had just enough time to see his smile melt into terror before they wrenched apart.

It sounded like gunshot, or mini-explosions, and the dimly lit shop flashed like a pyrotechnic show.

“What’s happening?” she cried, but when she turned to him, he was just standing there, without his cane, his face deathly white. “Adam!”

Just then, the front window exploded in a shower of flame and glass, as something hurled through it. It erupted in a shower of sparks, and Belle finally could see that it was a firecracker. A firecracker…in an antique shop.

The sparks were flying everywhere, the high-pitched whistling noise deafening in the previously silent room.  Belle ducked away, feeling pin-pricks of heat on her arms, and screaming when tiny fires started breaking out in several places; on the rack of clothes, on the books, on a pair of marionettes.

“Adam! The shop’s gonna burn down!” she yelled, but he was suddenly nowhere to be found. Maybe he’d run for help? …And left her there?

But regardless, the shop was about to go up in flames, with her inside, so she rushed to the bookcase first as the last of the firecracker died down with a dwindling whistle. She ripped a quilt off the wall and started beating at the bookcase, then took a few books off the shelf to stomp the flames off, as much as it hurt her to step on books. With that fire out, the clothes were still burning, and fast, filling the small building with acrid smoke, and that needed to be the next to be extinguished but…

“No!” Belle cried, beating the flames licking the side of the piano, wishing she knew if and where Gold had a fire extinguisher.

“Gold!” Jefferson screamed, bursting into the shop.

“Jefferson, help!” Belle yelled back. “The piano!”

“Leave it!” Jefferson snapped, grabbing her arm. “You need to get out of here! Where’s Adam?!”

“I don’t know!” she turned around, looking for him. She knew in her heart that he hadn’t left her. Maybe he was hurt. “Check the back!”

Jefferson disappeared behind the curtain just as she caught sight of a foot. She dropped to her knees with a painful thud behind the counter, where Gold was curled into a ball, rocking and grinding his teeth so hard she could hear it, his hands pressed tightly to his ears.

“Gold!” she choked out, the smoke making her eyes sting and her throat burn. “Adam!” she laid a hand on his shoulder, and he screamed, a sound that would live in her nightmares for a while to come.

Jefferson reappeared then, brushing past her and ignoring Gold’s screams to drag him bodily to his feet. “Come on!” he yelled at her, leading the way to the backroom and out the back door, dragging Gold along.

The fire department was just arriving, and the firemen rushed inside the building, thankfully putting out the fire quickly before it got any more out of hand.

“Oh my God, Belle!” Ruby yelled, breaking out of the gathering crowd to come to her side. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Belle said, not taking her eyes off of Gold, where he sat against a trashcan, head buried in his hands. “Someone shot fireworks into the shop.”

“Are you _serious_?” Jefferson barked, and Belle jumped at the sharp tone of his voice, so unlike the Jefferson she knew. Ruby cowered back as well. “Someone fucking did this on purpose!”

“It could have been an accident,” Ruby offered. “Kids, maybe?”

“It was no kid, it was fucking Jones. I know it. I’ll kill him.”

“Don’t say things like that!” Ruby exclaimed, glancing back at where the police and firemen were gathered. “If Killian really did do this, they can charge him.”

Belle knelt beside Gold, afraid to touch him, but desperately wanting to comfort him somehow.

“Belle! Jefferson! Is everyone okay?” Victor asked as he and Archie made their ways past the forming police line.

Archie took one look at Gold and seemed to understand what was happening. “We need to get him off the street and away from this crowd. Come on, my office is just a building over.”

Jefferson and Victor propped Gold up between them, and carried him over to Archie’s office.

They maneuvered him into the office and to the couch. Ruby reached for the light switch, but Archie stopped her.

“No, leave it. And maybe some of you should leave for right now, he doesn’t need to feel crowded.”

Victor nodded understandingly, and led a somewhat confused Ruby out. Jefferson hesitated, clearly wanting to stay, but nodded decisively and headed for the door. “I’m going to tell Sheriff Nolen what you said about the fireworks,” he said. “And make sure he checks into Jones. You _take care of him_ ,” he said to her, and she took at as the warning it was. _You better take care of him, or you’ll have me to answer to_.

“What should I do?” she asked Archie helplessly, wringing her hands.

Archie handed her a cup of water, which she gratefully downed. “Maybe just sit beside him for now,” he said. “Don’t crowd him, don’t touch him. Just sit, and talk. Quietly.”

Belle did as instructed, and sat beside Gold where he was pressed against the back of the couch, his knees against his chest, his artificial leg sticking out at an awkward angle. She realized with a lurch that it was probably painful, but he either didn’t feel it at the moment, or didn’t care.

“I’m here, Adam,” she said softly, praying for the strength to keep her voice steady and the tears at bay. “Whenever you’re ready, I’m right here.”

She couldn’t think of anything to say, so remembering what he’d said about her voice, (was that really only an hour ago?) she began to sing slowly and quietly.

“See the pyramids along the Nile… watch the sun rise on a tropic isle… just remember, darling all the while…you belong to me…”

At length, Gold’s breathing evened out, and he leaned almost imperceptibly closer to her. At Archie’s nod, she placed a hand on his shoulder, and he leaned farther in, until his head was on her lap.

“…You belong to me,” Belle finished in a choked whisper, stroking his hair.

After a few more moments, she could see Gold blink, then he slowly raised his head, looking around as if he didn’t even know how he’d gotten there.

“Adam?” Belle ventured.

He looked at her, seeming to take a second to truly focus in on her, and saw the black smudges on her skin. “Oh God…” he whispered. “Belle…”

“I’m fine,” she rushed to assure him. “And I don’t think the shop suffered too much damage.”

“N…no…there was an _explosion_ ,” he said, confused. “A landmine…”

“A land…no, darling, there was no landmine, no explosion. It was just _firecrackers_. Someone lit them outside the shop on purpose, then shot one through the window.”

“But I _felt_ it,” he insisted. “I could feel my leg…” he stared down at his leg, as if expecting to see a stump instead of his trouser-covered artificial limb.

“What you felt was common,” Archie said, and Gold looked up at him in surprise, clearly having not realized he was there. “You’ll probably have heard it called shell shock, but it’s actually a more complex condition known as gross stress reaction. A…delayed response, if you will, to the trauma of war.”

“I know about shell shock,” Gold said, sounding immensely tired.

“Have you experienced this before?”

“Not…like this,” he admitted. “But when I first came home after the war, I was fearful of loud sounds for a long time…still am, clearly.”

“And something like fireworks would create a direct fight or flight response in you. In most anyone who had been through an experience like yours.”

“Whoever did it must have known that,” Belle seethed. “They were deliberately trying to frighten him.”

“And they succeeded,” Gold said miserably. “I’m so sorry, Belle.”

“Sorry? What on earth for?”

“What for? Belle, my shop was burning down around our ears and I just cowered in a corner like an animal. You could have been hurt or…worse…and I did _nothing_.”

“You’re allowed to be afraid, Adam. God, we were just talking about what happened to you and then this happened. How could anyone blame you?”

“A real man doesn’t cower or run when someone he loves is in danger.”

Belle ignored the flutter she felt when he said “ _love_.” “By _a real man_ , I think you mean _a human_ ,” she said firmly. “One with fears, and flaws, just like the rest of us. Do you think it was smart of me to try to put out the fires on the books and piano, in that order? Instead of just trying to get us to safety?”

Gold chuckled despite himself. “I could hardly expect you of all people to let the books burn.”

“But books and instruments are replaceable. We aren’t. If it hadn’t been for Jefferson, we both might be dead.”

“Belle’s right,” Archie said. “You’ve been through something few of us can comprehend. I don’t even think _I_ can. And your reaction to such a violent reminder was only _human_.”

“But you can’t possibly still want to be with me…er…friends with me…” he cut a shy look from Belle to Archie. “…after seeing me that way,” Gold said, but with a hint of hope in his voice that he would be proven wrong.

“You let me decide what I want,” Belle said. “And what I want right now, is to take you home and take care of you the way you did me when I was drugged. Cause that’s what a relationship is, right? We take care of each _other_? You, me, and our wayward child, Jefferson?”

Gold chuckled and allowed Belle to thread their fingers together. “Oh, a relationship now, is it?” his tone was playful, but she could see the genuine question there, and she only smirked in response.

 “I think it’s really healthy for you to talk about this,” Archie said, smiling at the pair. “If Belle is who you’re most comfortable talking to, then that’s great. But if you like, I’m here, too, if you need to talk.”

“As a therapist?” Gold asked wryly.

“As a therapist, or just as a friend, if you’d rather. Or, perhaps Jefferson. He told me that you don’t open up to him, but don’t you think if anyone understands what you’ve been through, it’s him?”

Gold nodded, squeezing Belle’s hand. “He’s always been there for me. Always.”

“And now you have lots of people there for you,” Belle said.

He arched a brow. “Lots?”

“Well there’s Jeff, Archie, Victor, Ruby, and Neal. And you know, I think Sheriff Nolan actually really likes you. And his wife thinks you’re dashing. I remember her saying that to my mom once. And of course…there’s me.”

Gold looked like he wanted to debate her claims, but found that he couldn’t. He had friends; a family who cared about him, a woman who supported him, and that’s all there was to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Gold is an amputee in this. I tried my best to keep it accurate as far as what kinds of prosthesis were available in the 60s, and what was provided for war veterans. (not enough.) I apologize for any error!


	5. Chapter 5

If asked before it happened, Gold would have thought his panic attack in the shop would have irreparably humiliated him. The way he’d huddled up in fear, that Belle had been witness to such weakness, the fact that Jefferson had to carry him out of his burning shop like a child.

But the more he thought about, the more he realized it didn’t embarrass him. He wasn’t _proud_ of it, but it was impossible to really feel shame when those around him did nothing but support him and just act happy that he was alive.

He wasn’t healed. The incident exasperated some old ticks; such as shaking hands, raised voices making him nauseated, and worst of all the phantom pains in his missing leg had returned with a vengeance, not to even mention the pain from misusing it that night. But even though it had been the worst panic attack he’d ever had, it had been the first that left him feeling almost cleansed instead of just plain sick.

A pair of smiling blue eyes had a lot to do with it.

“Belle,” he complained laughingly. “I have to get _up_!”

His bed had been transformed into something of a throne. All set up with pillows, (every pillow in the house,) and blankets, and a stack of books a mile high. Belle, Jefferson, and Ruby had even pitched in and bought him a brand new, portable record player, so that he could listen to music wherever.

“Nuh uh,” Belle declined with a prim shake of her head. “The doctor said to stay  off your feet for _three days_. It’s been _one_.”

“But Belle…”

“No buts! Whatever you need I can bring to you.”

“Belle…” he said again, firmly. “I need to use the _bathroom_.”

“Oh…” Belle blinked, blushing slightly, but recovered quickly. “Well why didn’t you say so? Do you have a bedpan?”

Now it was his turn to blush. “No! Belle, the doctor specifically said to stay in bed _except to use the restroom_ and to bathe. I am _not_ using a damned bedpan. I know full well how to get around. Been doing it a long time and in worse condition than _this._ ”

He hadn’t meant to snap, truly he didn’t. Belle was only trying to be a good caretaker, and bless her heart, she didn’t quite know what she was doing. He’d often snapped at Milah that way and worse, and she responded by screaming back and stomping out of the room, not that he’d deserved any less. Belle, on the other hand, just jutted her bottom lip out at him.

“Okay, okay, crankypants,” she replied, appearing completely unfazed.

“I’m sorry,” he said at once regardless. “I shouldn’t have spoken that way to you.”

Belle smiled and reached out to brush some hair out of his face. “It’s gonna take a bit more than a testy attitude when you aren’t feeling well to put me off. Now come on, up with you before I have to change your sheets.”

He chuckled, and let her pull the covers off before swinging his legs…his _leg_ , over the side of the bed.

Jefferson had been the one to help him change and get into bed the day before, and to help remove his wooden leg. He never slept in it anyway, save that night when Belle had begged for his comfort, but the remaining stump from just above where his knee had been was red and enflamed from the abuse it had sustained, so he couldn’t put the thing back on until the swelling went down.

It wasn’t anything knew to him. He’d gotten around plenty of times without it, but it was the first time Belle had ever seen him without it, and he paused, evaluating her expression and letting her look, despite how uncomfortable it made him. He was only in boxer shorts, after all, and his mottled flesh was on full display.

“It’s swollen,” she said in sympathy.

“Yeah, it happens sometimes when I over-exert. It’ll be okay.”

Belle lightly brushed the tips of her fingers across the mangled skin and he jumped involuntarily. “Sorry!” she said quickly, snatching her hand back.

He grabbed her hand, pulling it back to him, if only to reassure her that he wasn’t upset. “No, it’s ok. I’m just not used to anyone but my doctor and me touching it.”

Belle ran her hand more confidently over the stump, and Gold marveled at the utter lack of disgust in her eyes. He’d been hastily and agonizingly cauterized by the field medic, then later stitched up, so the result, even after so many years, was hideous. “Would a massage help, maybe?” she asked sweetly.

He flushed. “Uh…my…my doctor sometimes…but you…you wouldn’t want to…”

Belle giggled. “I would. Just let me know, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, but he highly doubted it. It was one thing to let her touch that most hated part of him, but add that to the idea of her rubbing an area _very_ close to another, more appreciated area, was a bit more than he could handle right then.

“Right,” she said finally, taking her hand away – and, amazingly, he missed it – and stood up. “Do you need help?”

He fought to restrain his temperamental tendencies. “No _thank you_ , sweetheart. I can handle _that part_ on my own.”

“I didn’t mean _that_ ,” she said, laughing. “I meant _getting there_. Although if you asked, I would certainly help you with _that_ as well.”

To his astonishment, she winked at him, and would this slip of a girl ever stop making him blush?

He let her help him into a standing position, and hand him his crutches. He showed her how the top parts looped around his arms, but he only needed one to get him to the bathroom and back.

He felt her eyes on him as he returned, and he tried to keep the grimace of effort off his face.

When he plopped back down on the bed, he didn’t protest as Belle bustled about to tuck him in again.

“Clucking about like a mother hen,” he said with an amused smile.

“I’m not…” she froze and stared at him. “That was a dig at my organization, wasn’t it?”

“A little bit.”

Belle slapped him playfully with a throw pillow before settling down beside him on the bed, facing him. Her eyes moved to his nightstand, which his leg was propped up beside.

“May I?” she asked hesitantly.

When he figured out what she was talking about, he nodded, and she reached over to pick up the prosthetic.

“It’s _heavy_!” she exclaimed in surprise.

“Yes,” he agreed, not sure how else to respond.

She slowly examined the leg, running her hands along the grainy wood and bits of aluminum at the knee and ankle joints.

“This looks uncomfortable,” she commented, fingering the rough leather straps that connected it to his thigh.

“I’m used to it,” he said. “Once the calluses built up, I didn’t notice it that much anymore.”

She moved the foot, testing the ankle joint. “Should it not move easier than this?”

He didn’t know why, but he was beginning to feel a little defensive of his wooden leg. “It shouldn’t move _too_ easily, or else I’d fall. True, it’s a little stiff, but my leg is a far sight better than some.”

“I’m sorry!” she exclaimed. “I wasn’t meaning to sound insulting. I just…they’ve come pretty far in the development of prosthetics. I just wonder why you haven’t gotten a more comfortable one. One made of plastic.”

“Plastic?” he asked. “Uh, I guess I’d never given it much thought. I went for years with a horrible stick for a leg; my ‘temporary’ leg which was only meant to hold me off for short time until the VA gave me a new one. It was like the bottom of a crutch. Like a peg leg,” Belle winced in sympathy. “It was only after I started making money on investments that I was able to get ahold of this one. I knew it wasn’t the best…but it was sadly difficult to get a very good one.”

“Would you…” she trailed off, hesitant.

“Would I what?” he prompted. “It’s ok, I won’t be offended.”

She bit her lower lip. “Would you be interested in a new one? If maybe I could try looking into it?”

“How do you even know it’s possible?”

Belle shrugged self-consciously. “Well, Victor brought up… _conversationally_ , that quality prosthetics were becoming more readily available for veterans, and I… _may_ have already sent away for some information.”

“You _did_?” Gold asked in amazement. It hadn’t even been two ­ _days­ ­_ since she even found _out_ that he had a fake leg!

“Are you upset?” she asked uncertainly.

Gold took the leg away from her, setting in carelessly on the floor, and gathered her up in his arms. “Upset? Oh sweetheart, how could I be upset, when you’re so wonderful?” he took her chin in his forefinger and thumb, and tilted her head up so that he could reach her lips.

It was their first kiss since the one that had ended so dramatically, but it was just as good as before.

Only this time, her tongue moved more quickly and confidently into his mouth, and he groaned in approval.

His hands went to her hair, tangling his fingers in her impossibly silky strands. She hadn’t bothered to straighten it, as she normally did, and it hung in soft, gentle curls. He adored it, and he hoped to one day find a polite way to let her know he preferred it. In the meantime, he would simply continue to muss it up to show his appreciation.

She was wiggling deliciously against him, and before he knew what was happening, she was straddling his lap. Her knee-length skirt bunched up around her thighs, so that all that remained between then was their underwear and a thin blanket.

One of his hands moved down to grip her thigh, sliding it up under her skirt until he had a hand full of her ass. She moaned in response, and moved even more.

It was like she couldn’t be still, and it was driving him insane. He knew she must feel him growing hard against him, but she must not have minded, since she only responded by grinding down against him.

Unfortunately – _very_ unfortunately – that wonderful motion also put too much pressure on his thigh, and he involuntarily had to pull away from her delicious mouth to bite back a moan of pain.

“Oh God! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” she stammered, rushing to get off of him. He tried to pull her back, pain be damned, but she wiggled away and put a foot of distance between them. “I’m so sorry!” she repeated.

“No, no, don’t be sorry,” he insisted. “I’m sure as hell not.”

“But it was stupid to do that when you’re already in pain.”

He chuckled. “For a minute there, I forgot I had _any_ legs, much less lacking _one_. Please come back here. Sit on my good leg, it’s alright.”

But she wouldn’t straddle him again, much to his dismay. She did, however, cuddle against his side, which was a good consolation.

“Maybe we should just take it slow,” she said, biting her lip again in a way that was making him crazy. “I wouldn’t want to put you back on recovery.”

“You’re not,” he insisted. “But if you want to take things slow, we will,” he looked at her face, and there was something in her expression that gave him pause, because it wasn’t just about him and his leg. “Don’t think I expect anything from you, sweetheart. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“I know,” she said, smiling. “You don’t even have to tell me for me to know. I really just don’t want to hurt you…but also…”

“Also?”

“I’ve never…well, that is to say…”

He chuckled. “It’s okay to be a virgin, Belle. I’m not so old fashioned to expect it of you, but I’m certainly not going to be put off by it either.”

She sighed. “It’s just that you’re older, with more experience. You’ve had a wife, and I’m sure plenty of other lovers. I don’t want to disappoint you.”

He just had to laugh at that. “Plenty of other lovers? You make me sound like a regular Don Juan. Trust me, I’m not. My, er, partners, can be counting on one hand, and none of them were anything special, and my wife and my relationship…well, my good memories of it were pretty tainted by the memory of how it ended. You? Christ, Belle, you could dance around the room for me, fully clothed, and I would be more turned-on by it than any of my past…dalliances. I mean…” he glanced surreptitiously to his lap, and she followed his gaze, blushing hotly when she could see that he was still aroused. “As for my age...does it bother you at all? You can be honest.”

“It doesn’t _bother_ me in the least,” she said. “I’ve been gone for you for you since I was I was thirteen. I just hope it doesn’t bother _you_ any. That you see me as a woman, not a kid.”

“Belle, believe me, if I hadn’t seen you as a woman for a very long time now, we would not be in this very situation right now. I’ll admit, when I’d started to become attracted to you, it galled me a bit. But you’re such an intelligent, articulate, caring, _beautiful_ woman. And for some reason you chose me. Far from bother me, my dear. I just feel damned lucky. But wait a second, what do you mean, ‘gone for me since you were thirteen’?”

“I mean I’ve had a crush on you since I was thirteen.”

He chuckled. “How could you? I was nothing more than the grumpy old man who came to collect rent once a month.”

“You weren’t and aren’t _old_ , and I happened to find you very debonair and mysterious. You spoke to me like an equal, and that really meant something to me. You, sir, are single-handedly responsible for my sexual awakening.”

Gold made a sound like someone was pushing the air out of his lungs, and removed his arm from around his giggling Belle. “Okay! Let’s not talk about that anymore.”

“Very well,” she said, still laughing. “But it’s true. And it always felt like something completely unrealistic, like fantasizing about a book character or celebrity. It wasn’t like I had actual _designs_ on you until…well, until that first day I came to your shop.”

“That’s a relief,” he chuckled. “And it was the same for me. But I’m happy you did.”

She grinned, then leaned up to kiss him lightly. “Me too.”

 

The investigation about the fireworks hadn’t turned up any leads. If it was Killian, and Belle knew full well that it was, he’d covered his tracks well. No one had seen him outside the shop, but he _had_ been seen at the Rabbit Hole that evening, even though no one was able to prove he’d been there at the same time as the incident.

After three days of rest, and more and more grumpiness as the days wore on, Adam was finally allowed by his doctor to put his leg back on and get out of bed.

In the three days of his bedrest, Belle had all but moved in with him for the time. Jefferson visited regularly, and he was the one to sit nearby while Adam took a bath, just in case he needed help, but he never did. Victor and Archie stopped by a couple of times too, and Ruby brought dinner every evening. Granny even accompanied her one night, gruffly informing him that she’d added some extra pickles – at no extra cost, just this once – and gave him an herbal oil that he could massage into the skin of his leg, saying that it worked wonders. Belle gave him a wink at that, which flustered him to no end, though he’d managed a thank you to the older woman.

Belle’s other friends were less understanding about her relationship with Gold, and their distrust put a huge damper on the group. Belle hoped that it would pass, and they would be able to come to terms with it.

Her father, well, he’d taken it better than Belle had feared.

“Where are you going?” he asked when she’d come home to pack for her stay at Adam’s. “You’re not moving out, are you?”

“Not just yet, Papa,” she said with a smile. “Although I’m getting up there in years, don’t you think it’s about time?”

“No,” he said bluntly. “You’re fine right where you are, until you’re married at least.”

Her father was of the opinion that a young woman remained at home until she went to live with a husband. He didn’t think young women should live on their own, and hadn’t allowed her to live in a dorm during college, though she’d only gone for two years. But Belle didn’t complain. Her father was all alone save for her, and besides, living at home allowed her to put aside a generous savings. She was only grateful that he’d never seemed keen on trying to marry her off. He’d tolerated Gaston the way only a protective father would, but seemed relieved instead of disappointed when she’d broken it off with him. When he found out, through the grapevine, just what had _happened_ to cause the breakup, he’d been murderous. Only the pride he had in her for dealing with it on her own had stopped him from going to the boy’s house and giving him what for.

Belle had considered telling him that she’d be spending a few days at Ruby’s, but dismissed that thought. She hated lying, and besides, it was bound to get back to him eventually in this small town. And since nothing inappropriate was likely to happen while he was recovering, she had nothing to hide.

“I uh, I’m going to be staying at Adam Gold’s house for a few days.”

“Adam…who’s…wait, _Mr._ Gold?! The landlord?”

“Yes?” she said uncertainly.

“Why in the _world_ would you go to stay at his _house_?”

“He was hurt last night, Papa. Didn’t you hear about the shop?”

Maurice’s ire deflated. “Yes, I did. That’s horrible, what was done to him. No one deserves that.”

Belle looked at him in surprise. Maurice had served in the war too, but he’d thankfully been stationed state-side, handling deployments and special operations. She knew that that didn’t mean he hadn’t had his share of grief, dealing with deployments that ended in boys being killed, but he luckily not had to go through the horror of battle. By that point, most everyone knew about Gold’s reaction to the fire, and Shell Shock was not something readily understood or accepted. But Maurice, for reasons Belle couldn’t know, seemed to truly empathize.

“It is,” she agreed. “And the incident aggravated an old injury, so he’s going to be on bed rest for a few days. He needs someone with him, to take care of him.”

“That doesn’t answer why _you_ are going to be that person.”

Belle stood up, taking a deep breath. “Because, Papa, Adam and I…” she knew that Gold preferred people to use his last name, less personal that way, but if she was going to be talking about him in terms of being her boyfriend, she wasn’t about to call him _Mr. Gold_. “We’re…involved.”

“ _Involved_?” Maurice echoed, blanching. “I’m going to need you to elaborate, I’m afraid.”

“Well, we haven’t exactly _defined_ the relationship yet, but I have feelings for him, Papa. As he does for me.”

Belle expected one of several scenarios. Either her father would explode, tell her she was crazy and try to lock her in her room. He would become quietly furious and start listing all the ways he thought it was wrong. He would say nothing, and just go out and threaten Gold with physical harm if he didn’t leave his innocent little girl alone.

It was the one reaction Belle hadn’t anticipated that won out in the end.

Maurice shook his head, then pinched the bridge of his nose like he had a sudden headache. “Your mother would be having a field day right about now.”

“Mom…she what?”

“She told me how you puppy-dog eyed him as a teenager. She teased all the time about how you were going to grow up one of these days, and ‘go after your man’ as she put it. I know she only did it to rile me, I don’t think she ever actually expected it. But oh boy, would she be crowing now.”

Belle laughed softly. “I didn’t exactly intend to ‘go after him.’ It just sort of…happened.”

Maurice paled even further. “I don’t need details.”

“Papa! No! Nothing like that! Not…yet…”

“Ugh!”

“I’m sorry!” Belle was still laughing, dizzyingly happy that he wasn’t actually angry. “You don’t…you don’t _mind_?”

“Well, I’m not thrilled!” he said. “He’s old enough to be your father!”

“Technically,” Belle admitted. “But you’re almost old enough to be _his_. Doesn’t that count for anything?”

Maurice rolled his eyes heavenward. “He’s an asshole.”

“Not to me, never to me.”

“I know,” he sighed. “You and your mother were always fond of him. And that _does_ count for something. If he’s good to you, princess, I suppose that’s all that really matters to me.”

Belle flung her arms around him. “Thank you, Papa! And he is. He’s wonderful.”

He patted her back before setting her back to look at her. “However, it’s very improper for you to be staying at his home without being married.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m going to take _care_ of him. It’s not a romantic getaway.”

 “Still. He’s a man, and he’s bound to enjoy it too much.”

“Oh my God, Papa, stop.”

“Stop trying to protect my little girl? Never.”

 

In the end, both she and Adam _had_ enjoyed it…a bit too much. But Belle’s only regret was that he’d been in no condition to further the…enjoyment.

It wasn’t a sense of propriety that had kept her a virgin all these years, just a simple matter of not having _found_ anyone that she felt that connection to. Ruby, from the time she lost her virginity at seventeen, had been of the inclination that sex and love could be mutually exclusive, that sex could be just for fun sometimes. Belle was fully supportive of her best friend’s activities as long as they were safe, she just didn’t share that opinion. She couldn’t imagine being able to be that unguarded with someone _unless_ she loved and trusted them.

And she trusted Adam implicitly, and was quickly finding herself more and more in love with him, though she hadn’t had nearly enough nerve to reveal that to him. They hadn’t even progressed to calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend. Although, “boyfriend” wasn’t a title that really seemed to fit him.

She checked her watch, picking up her step, waving at Marco on the sidewalk. She’d gone back home to have lunch with her father, and assure him nothing inappropriate had happened during her stay. (And it wasn’t even a lie!) But she was supposed to meet Adam at his shop, which had been cleared by the fire department, to go over the damage together. She was running late though, and growled to herself for it. She didn’t want him to have to go inside alone.

She found him standing outside, leaning heavily on his cane, and she hoped dearly that he hadn’t been waiting long. But she couldn’t help but smile at his attire, even though it must have been picked out to save his suits from the ashes. Dark wash, fitted jeans (bellbottoms would not have done him justice,) a tight, white button-up, and the same brown blazer from the rally. On his face was a pair of round sunglasses, giving him a very Ringo Starr appearance. Though in her humble option, Ringo had nothing on Adam.

His face brightened when he saw her, and it pleased her somewhat to see that instead of leaning away from his cane to try and diminish the look of dependence like she’d seen him do with many people, including herself, he leaned even more on it, to better balance while he held out his other arm for her.

She complied immediately, wrapping her arms around his torso under his jacket, and pressing her nose against the skin at his chest the lack of tie and a few buttons mercifully undone provided for her.

It was ridiculous, really, how much she’d missed him. She’d left his house only that morning, pouting shamelessly as she packed her small overnight bag back up. He’d laughed at her dramatics, trying to insist that he was still convalescent, and perhaps she ought to stay a few more days. But despite her growing feelings, moving in with him _would_ be too fast, and they both knew it. She refused to become that girlfriend who had to hang on her boyfriend constantly, especially now that he was becoming a little more social. She desperately wanted to see him living and having fun with friends _without_ her, as contradictory as it seemed to the fact that she had the desire to be with him all the time now.

“How are you feeling?” she asked him, scrutinizing his face for any sign of tiredness or pain. He did look tired, but she suspected it was preemptive of what they were about to do.

“Ready to get this over with,” he sighed, eying the paper-covered remains of the window. “I uh…I waited for you…because I didn’t…”

“I know,” she said, squeezing him. “I’m sorry I was late, lunch with Papa took longer than I meant for it to.”

“No matter,” he said. “I’m sure he’s been worried about his little girl, spending time in the lair of the Beast.”

Belle swatted his arm playfully. “Oh hush, you. I’ll have you know he’s been very understanding about this.”

“I’m glad,” Adam said seriously. “I would hate to cause problems between you.”

“Well, you have nothing to worry about. Are you ready to go in?”

Adam took a deep breath. “I suppose so.”

He opened the door, and led the way in, still tightly gripping her hand. Belle supposed he was still holding that breath, because he let it out suddenly. “It’s not as bad as I I’d thought it would be,” he said.

The fire had claimed the entire rack of vintage coats and dresses, which was a real shame, as there had been a couple of 1920s era gowns Belle would have loved to have tried on at some point. Most of the items that had been displayed on the wall on that side were gone as well, but luckily the fire had been mostly contained to that one side of the shop. The biggest problem, unfortunately, would be the smell and amount of smoke damage affecting the quality and value of the rest of the items and antiques.

Adam kicked at the remains of the sparkler still sitting in the middle of the floor.

“Any arrests, yet?” Belle asked.

“No,” Gold said gruffly. “And I doubt there’ll be one. They covered their tracks well.”

Belle squeezed his hand. “Ready to get started?”

He smiled at her. “Ready.”

 

For the next hour, Gold and Belle (mostly Belle, to Gold’s chagrin,) dragged the items most obviously beyond repair out to the curb for trash. Then they began the tedious job of examining the rest of his inventory and deciding what could be salvaged, and what couldn’t.

They were just about to launch the daunting task of removing all the books from the bookcase, sorting the damaged books from the good ones, and then removing the burned bookcase itself, when the door creaked open, the bell above making more of a _clink_ instead of a _ding_.

“You started the party without us?” Jefferson asked, leading the way, followed by Victor, Archie, Ruby, Sheriff David Nolan, and his wife, Mary Margaret.

“What are you all doing here?” Gold asked, trying to keep his voice sounding polite instead of suspicious, accounting especially for the unexpected appearance of the sheriff and his wife.

“We’re here to help!” David said cheerfully. “Leroy and his crew are on their way to get that window replaced in a jiffy!”

“I brought some cleaning supplies,” Mary Margaret said, holding up a pair of buckets. “I can get things clean and smelling fresh in no time, just you wait.”

“And Granny’ll be by later with dinner for everyone,” Ruby announced then clapped her hands together. “Now, where do we start?”

Gold looked over at Belle in astonishment, believing she must have asked them to come. But she looked as surprised as he felt, if far less disbelieving.

“I…uh…” Gold stammered, totally unsure of how to react to so many smiling faces, aimed at _him_. “I… _thank you_.”

Everyone waved off his thanks as no big deal, and scattered out to start cleaning. With everyone helping together, the work was getting completed in no time at all. David, Jefferson, and Victor were able to haul out bigger pieces of ruined furniture and pieces of drywall, and Mary Margaret and Ruby were scrubbing what was left behind. Archie helped Belle with the books, and Gold was able to move around and answer everyone’s questions about what could stay and go.

“What about this, Mr. Gold?” Ruby asked, holding up an old red dress cape, the sort worn by women from his time to formal events and such. It had been displayed elsewhere from the rack of clothes, so hadn’t sustained damage. “It doesn’t smell terribly bad. I think with a bit of airing out, it’ll be just fine.”

It didn’t take someone as adept at deal-making as Gold to catch the glint in the young woman’s eyes as she carefully handled the velvet cape.

“Oh, I’m not sure,” Gold said smoothly. “With things like clothing, it would be the height of unfairness to sell something like that that’s been through a fire. I wouldn’t be able to charge hardly anything.”

“Really? But it’s so pretty!”

Gold hummed. “I think not. But if you like it…why don’t you simply take it?”

Ruby’s eyes widened. “Oh… I couldn’t!”

“Nonsense, I’ll just have to throw it out if you don’t give it a nice home. It’s rather old fashioned, but I think you could pull it off quite well.”

Ruby grinned excitedly and wrapped it around her shoulders. Gold hadn’t been just saying that, and he’d been right. The girl’s tall build and graceful air were made for such a classic garment. “What do you think, Belle?!” she asked, near squealing.

“It looks beautiful on you, Ruby!” Belle gushed from her position on the floor, surrounded by books.

“Thank you, Mr. Gold,” Ruby said shyly before turning away to continue cleaning, an extra bounce in her step, cape flowing merrily behind her.

Belle stood up, stretching the stiffness from her legs, and came to stand beside him. “That was very sweet of you.”

“I meant what I said,” he gruffed, trying to brush off her praise. “It was either she take it, or I threw it out.”

“No, you could have sold it if you’d wanted to. You just wanted her to have it, because she wanted it, and you’re being sweet.”

“Well…the least I can do for all her help is offer her a silly length of fabric if she wants it.”

Belle reached up and placed a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth, ignoring Victor’s wolf whistle from somewhere on the other side of the shop.

Gold cleared his throat, a little overwhelmed with this level of public affection, but liking it all the same. “As for you, my dear, I do hope you have a decent stack of _not quite ruined_ but _not quite sellable_ books over there.

Belle blushed, guiltily following his gaze to an out-of-the-way pile, and he grinned in response. “Well…there _are_ a few with just some singed edges, and I couldn’t bear to throw them out!”

“And I’m _sure_ you know someone who would love to keep them.”

“Oh…I just thought maybe you’d take them.”

Gold kissed her brow. “I think not. And I also think that copy of Dracula you’ve been eyeballing for some time should find its way to that stack, as well.”

“But that one’s not damaged at all!”

“Humor me?”

Belle bit her bottom lip, but didn’t bother to argue. He knew that if he’d offered her something like jewelry, like his first impulse would tell him to do, her protests would come much stronger. But there was little chance of such a bibliophile refusing the gift of books. No, the jewelry would have to wait for her birthday.

In the end, he managed to sneakily give away “damaged” goods to everyone, once he caught the tell-tale sign of holding the object in question a bit too long, or asking him questions about it. Mary Margaret took a set of glass unicorn charms that he told her once belonged to a baby mobile. The way her eyes lit up, and one hand strayed to her middle made him suspect that even at their age, it was possible that they might soon be giving their adult daughter a brother or sister. David took, of all things, an antique prop sword. Victor, a WWI era stethoscope, and Archie, an ornamental umbrella. Only Jefferson escaped with nothing, but Gold knew that was because he knew him too well to be tricked. But Gold was especially glad that they accepted the gifts when offers of payment were vehemently refused.

Not even Leroy and his men accepted payment for the superb job they did in replacing the front window, and even went so far as to put up some new drywall in the corner that was most damaged. They wouldn’t, however, be able to stop him from lowering their rent next month.

Granny had arrived, just as Ruby said, with mounds of food, and everyone settled on whatever flat surface they could find to eat.

“You think this is ok?” Belle asked, setting aside the remains of her burger and wiping her hands before turning in her seat on the piano bench to indicate the upright. It had a large, ugly scorch mark on the side, but an earlier look told Gold that the interior had been undamaged.

“One way to find out,” Jefferson said, winking at Gold.

Gold stiffened in embarrassment, but risked a glance at Belle, who was looking back at him hopefully. She wouldn’t ask him, he knew, but he also knew that she wished he would.

And he found, to his surprise, that the thought didn’t fill him with the sick feeling of remembrance anymore. Instead of Milah’s scowls and derision, he thought only of Belle and the way she’d looked at him that night. And instead of explosions and fear, he thought of the way it had felt to play alongside his best friend to the joy of their troupe.

He wiped his own hands, turning in his seat, and lifted the cover before running a quick scale up and down the keys to test the sound.

He heard a gasp from someone behind him, either Ruby or Mary Margaret, and chanced a look to find everyone but Jefferson and Belle staring in utter surprise. With a mental shrug he began to play, the same song he’d played for Belle that night.

“It’s so beautiful,” Belle murmured. “But what is it?”

“I…wrote it,” he said quietly, not looking at her. “I started it years ago, but I finished it…well, for you.”

He glanced up to find happy tears forming in her eyes, and he looked back down at his hands quickly, before he became too flustered.

When the song finished, everyone was silent for a long beat. Mary Margaret and Ruby were staring with doe-eyed expressions that made Belle scowl playfully and David nudge his wife with his elbow.

“As lovely as that was…” Jefferson said, inexplicably now holding a trumpet in his hand, and brought it to his mouth to play a fast paced, jazzy tune.

Gold laughed, shaking his head, but followed his lead, the two falling into rhythm as easily as breathing air. The woman laughed out in delight, and everyone clapped along, until Victor suddenly compiled together the buckets, a broken tambourine, and two long paintbrushes, drumming out a rolling beat with practiced ease.

Archie leapt to his feet, dashing out the door, leaving everyone to wonder until he reappeared with his bass guitar from his office, picking up the song right away.

“Wait, I remember seeing…” Mary Margaret said, getting up to dig through some of the items they’d been sorting through and coming back with an acoustic guitar, all but shoving it into her husband’s hands. David flushed, but after a few moments spent tuning it, an entire band was in full swing.

They went back and forth between old jazz and some more modern music. And when Ruby begged for her favorite song, Heatwave, they complied. Gold didn’t know it, but he was able to pick up after a few tries.

The girls sang out, and Gold noticed Ruby from the corner of his eye, elbowing Mary Margaret stealthily before jerking her head toward Belle. He wondered what that meant, until the both suddenly stopped singing, dropping back to “backup singers,” as Belle, not paying attention, sang alone without inhibition, her voice more powerful and gravelly then he remembered.

“ _Whenever he calls my name, soft, low, sweet, and plain…I feel…well I feel that burnin’ flame. Has high blood pressure got a hold on me, or is this the way loves supposed to be…_ ” she almost trailed off, noticing that she was having a bit of a solo, opening her eyes to find several other pairs gaping in astonishment. But Gold nodded at her encouragingly and she smiled and continued.

Gold could honestly say he’d _never_ felt such a pure, easy, _happiness_. Even such a joyous occasion as meeting his son for the first time had been so tarnished by everything else. Right now, he didn’t just feel happy…he felt free.

In fact, there was only _one thing_ that could make the moment utterly perfect, and like an answer to his thought, it opened the shop door.

“ _Dad_?” a young man and woman exclaimed at the same time.

The music stuttered to a stop as everyone turned to face the newcomers.

“…Neal?!” Gold exclaimed, leaping to his feet so fast, forgetting his cane, that Belle had to shoot out a hand to stop him from falling back down.

His son was looking around with wide eyes, so was the lovely woman at his side. A woman he recognized.

“Emma!” Mary Margaret exclaimed jumping up to embrace her daughter. “What are you doing here?! You didn’t say you were coming into town!”

“What are _you_ guys doing here?” Emma said, looking kind of dazed. “Daddy, you haven’t played in ages!”

Gold ignored them, however, rushing to pull his son into a tight hug. “My boy! Why didn’t you say you were coming to visit? Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”

“Well, when you told me over the phone about what happened to the shop, I was worried about you, having to deal with it on your own,” he smiled over his father’s shoulder. “Guess I needn’t have worried after all.”

Gold rubbed the back of his neck. “Er, yes…my uh…” he glanced around. “My…friends…they all showed up today to pitch in. We were just…celebrating, I suppose.”

“This is out of sight!” Neal gushed. “I didn’t know you could rock like that, Pop! I mean, all of you. That sounded amazing!”

“Now, what about you?” David asked Emma. “What brings you here?”

Emma shrugged. “When Neal told me about his dad, I thought I’d come too, haven’t seen you guys in too long.”

David frowned, looking back and forth between the two, as a dawning realization was coming over Gold. “I didn’t even know you two _knew_ each other!”

Neal and Emma both reddened and suddenly tried looking everywhere but their parents. “We met up in Boston,” Emma said. “I didn’t even know he was Gold’s son at the time. We uh…started dating…”

David looked over at Gold in surprise, who only gave a one-shoulder shrug. Who his son dated was his own business, but what he knew of Emma was that she was a strong-willed, intelligent young woman, and quite lovely to boot. He knew from seeing them together over the years that Belle admired Emma, being who started their peace coalition in the first place, despite Emma being several years younger. Anyone who Belle thought so highly of was fine by him.

“Hey Emma!” Belle intoned, right on time.

Emma grinned and rushed past her father to hug her friends.

“This is really something, Pop,” Neal said, and Gold would never grow tired of the honorific. Neal called his adoptive father Dad, of course, but in time Neal had come to refer to Gold as Papa, or Pop, and Gold had been euphoric. “I’ve never seen you like this before.”

Gold gave a half smile. “A lot’s happened of late, son.”

Right then, Belle sidled up beside him, smiling up at Neal, and Gold threaded their fingers together. “Neal, I believe you’ve met Belle…my, er…girlfriend.” Belle squeezed his hand, approving the title, and Gold was relieved.

Neal blinked dumbly for a moment, glancing between the two of them, at their joined hands, then at Emma who was returning to his side.. “You’re… _together_?” he asked.

“Yeah, that adds up,” Emma said dryly.

“What you mean, it adds up?” Neal asked her in shock. “When have they ever…but she’s…”

“Oh come on, Neal, Belle’s been in love with your dad _forever_. It was only a matter of time till she wore him down.”

Belle squeaked in surprise. “Was I _that_ obvious?!”

“Yes,” said everyone else in the room.

“Except to Gold, of course,” Jefferson said, holding up a finger. “But then again, it’s all but impossible to convince the man that someone _cares about him_.”

Gold gave him a wry look.

“How do we feel about this?” David asked his wife, referring to Neal and Emma.

Mary Margaret patted his arm. “We feel like Emma’s a big girl who makes her own choices, and Neal is a nice boy from a nice family.”

David sighed, but let his wife lead him back over to where the food and drink were laid out, followed by Emma, who hanged on her father’s arm and offered him a kiss on his cheek.

“Are you…okay with this?” Gold asked, indicating Belle, who’d let go of his hand to go help the others with the food and give him a moment with his son. “I know it must seem odd to you.”

“A little,” Neal admitted. “She’s close to my age, so I guess I just never would have thought about it. But…I mean…Belle’s really nice, and she’s smart, a hell of singer apparently, and Emma adores her. And, well, I had just enough time to see the look on her face while she was singing to you when we walked in and in retrospect…yeah, I’m okay with it. Not that you need my permission.”

“I know that, but I wouldn’t mind your blessing. You mean everything to me, but now…so does she.”

“Then consider yourself blessed. So it’s serious?”

Gold chuckled. “I hope it’s headed there. This hasn’t been going on very long, I would have told you otherwise.”

“That’s ok, it’s the same with me and Emma. She’s great, Papa. The fact that she didn’t so much as blink when I told her you were my biological father really cemented it for me.”

Gold remembered sixteen-year-old Neal’s ire when he learned of Storybrooke’s opinion of his father. Not toward Gold, but toward the town, stating that he couldn’t understand why everyone would hate a man for being a firm yet fair businessman. It was why Neal had never made any effort to socialize in town, and Gold had never had it in him to complain, since it meant their short visits were spent in quality time together.

“Then I’m sure I’ll love her,” Gold told him. “I’m going to admit something though; it’s a little strange that our respective girlfriends are old friends themselves.”

Neal made a face, “I _know_! That means they’ll _talk_ about us! About… _personal_ stuff!”

Gold grimaced. “That’s disconcerting. Let’s never talk about that again. Now, what did you mean a moment ago when you said, ‘Belle’s face when she was singing _to_ me?’”

Neal laughed and patted his father on the back. “If you don’t know, old man, I won’t be the one to tell you.”


	6. Chapter 6

Neal and Emma ended up making their stay an extended one, with both Emma and Belle spending more time at Adam’s house than their parents’, sometimes with Ruby and Jefferson in tow.

Belle noticed that Ruby and Jefferson were becoming closer, though they still just circled around one another going back and forth between shy flirting and trading bantering insults. It made Belle impossibly happy, like they were all becoming one big family.

No sleepovers had happened, however, both Belle and Emma feeling a little too awkward about it, since it would have all been in the same house. Well, there had been _one_ sleepover, but not the kind the men had much part of.

Adam had been baffled, huffing protests and insincere outrage when the three women set up camp in _his_ bedroom…and kicked him out. They’d all been there, watching a late night airing of The Wolfman on TV, and had been too sleepy to make their ways home. Adam had offered them all to spend the night, and she could tell he’d been hoping that she would bunk with him, if only to sleep. But the women had been giggling like teenagers when they staged a revolt and took over his bedroom, since it was the only one with a bed big enough for all of them.

Adam huffed and puffed and complained, but Belle could see the glint of indulgent amusement in his eyes, otherwise she would have made the other girls go. When he later delivered some chocolate ice cream and bottles of pop before retreating to the guest room, she knew that all was well. If anything, she suspected he got a sense of pleasure out of her laying claim to his space.

“I gotta know,” Ruby said as they all sat cross-legged on the bed, passing around the tub of ice cream. “Have you and Gold done the dirty, yet?”

“Ruby!” Belle squealed, slapping her with a pillow.

“No details necessary, please,” Emma said, grimacing. “And for the love of God, don’t tell me it if it was in this bed.”

“Well _I_ want details!” Ruby insisted. “Especially after seeing him play the piano. Those _fingers_ …”

“Ruby!” both other girls moaned.

“Ruby, stop!” Belle repeated, laughing. “We haven’t done _anything_ yet.”

“ _Nothing_?” Emma asked, surprised despite herself. “Really?”

“Really. I mean, for one, we haven’t really gotten a _chance_. All of our alone time seems to have been spent with one of us being incapacitated. And with Neal here it’s just too _weird_.”

“I’ll say,” Ruby said, laughing. “Do you two realize that if you both got married, Emma would be your _step_ - _daughter in law_?”

Belle made a face. “Must we?”

“But _Mooom_!” Emma whined laughingly, causing Belle to shove her almost off the bed.

Belle was laughing so hard, she almost fell off too. “Enough of that, _young lady_!”

They were halfway to laughing themselves sick when they remembered that there were others in the house trying to sleep, and managed to quiet down.

“So, do you want to?” Ruby asked, like a dog with a bone when it came to topics of a romantic nature. “I know with Gaston you had no interest…”

Belle wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Gaston was different. And I _do_ want to with Adam…” she chuckled. “I _really_ do. But I don’t want to just jump into bed with him for the sake of it, you know? I want it to happen when it feels right for both of us. I want everything to go right with us.”

“You really love him,” Ruby said dreamily.

Belle flushed. “I…well, I’ve never felt this way about _anyone_ before. But anything more than that, I think maybe he ought to be the first to hear it.”

“Neal and I have been sort of dancing around that word,” Emma admitted. “And we _did_ pretty much fall into bed for the sake of it. But we weren’t star-crossed lovers like you and Gold, and more built after that.”

Belle snorted at the ‘star-crossed lovers’ line. “And what about you, Miss Lucas?”

“What _about_ me?”

“Please,” Emma rolled her eyes. “Don’t think we haven’t noticed you and Jefferson being all cute together. Can’t say I blame you, he’s fine.”

Ruby blushed, and Belle’s eyebrows rose in surprise. Normally, Ruby had exactly no problems with raving on about anyone she found attractive, and how she was going to hook them. So this quiet bashfulness was something else indeed.

“He’s not what I always thought he was,” Ruby said. “I mean, I always thought he was a real kook, but it turns out he has some problems, just like Gold, only instead of covering up with grouchiness, he covers up with…”

“Eclecticness?” Belle offered kindly.

“Yeah,” Ruby chuckled. “But beneath the flapping around, and silly hats, he’s _really_ sensitive. And I mean, _you_ know, Belle, how protective he is of people he cares about.”

And Belle did know. Jefferson was fiercely protective and loyal to Adam, and in turn had become just as so to Belle. He treated Neal like a little brother, and Belle could easily see the way he was beginning to act toward Ruby. Jefferson, as a mate, Belle knew would be endlessly loyal and kind. Just the type of person she thought her best friend deserved.

“That tells me what a good person he is,” Ruby continued. “But I dunno, there’s almost as big of an age gap as you and Gold, and what if he doesn’t like me because of my reputation?”

Emma scoffed. “If he didn’t like you because of a reputation, he’d not only be a jerk, but a hypocrite.”

“I really don’t think he’s the type of person to worry about that,” Belle said. “And you must know my opinion on age gaps!”

“Maybe,” Ruby said, but she was smiling.

 

Belle lay in a heap with her snoring friends that night, staring at the ceiling and having a mental debate with herself.

She wanted Adam, but even though she meant what she said about wanting to wait for the right time, truth was, she was _scared_. Scared of not being any good, scared doing something wrong. Scared, simply, of the unknown.

A part of her almost wished she _wasn’t_ a virgin just so she wouldn’t be so damned nervous.

It wasn’t like she didn’t know what would _happen_. She read plenty of books, after all, and then there had been that dirty magazine that Ruby had gotten her hands on in 10 th grade.

But, she suspected that even if she’d been with a hundred guys, she’d still be nervous because she’d never been with _him_.

Well, she wasn’t getting any sleep anyway, so, heart hammering, she wiggled out from underneath Ruby’s arm and slipped out of bed, tiptoeing out the door.

She glanced both ways down the hall, listening for any sounds of anyone being awake. The light in Neal’s room was off, but so was the one in the guest room.

 _Do the brave thing_ , Belle thought to herself, remembering a quote from her favorite book. _And bravery will follow._

 

Gold lay awake in bed, unable to sleep, both from being unceremoniously kicked out of his own bed and into an unfamiliar one, and just from the events of the past couple of days. He simply wasn’t accustomed to this much contentedness. It almost made him afraid, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But Jefferson had caught something in his expression the other night, picking up on that train of thought and shutting it down immediately.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he’d said. “And you need to _stop_. You can’t live a life pushing away happiness before it can be taken from you. We may not know what may happen tomorrow, but we have to just _live_ , and be glad we’ve been given the chance to.”

Gold had nodded, remembering shamefully all the men and boys he’d known that _hadn’t_ been given the chance to live, and by God, he was determined to give up hiding.

And it was all because of Belle, with her smiles and her light and simply being who she was. She made him feel whole, and worthy of love. And that was a gift he could only hope to repay by making her as happy as he could.

The thought of her brought a smile unbidden to his face, as it always did. He thought of her face earlier that night, mischief warring with her usual joyful expression as she and the other girls commandeered his room. He’d obliged their game by providing the appropriate amount of fuss, all the while not really minding at all. In fact, it made him absurdly happy that Belle was so comfortable with his personal space that she claimed it as hers. That, and laying in the dark, listening to girlish laughing, with his son sound asleep in the next room, made his house feel more like a home than it ever had before.

He was so caught up in his musing, and was perhaps starting to doze, that he didn’t notice his door open and then shut again. He didn’t realize anyone was in the room with him, until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

He jumped, eyes flying open and half-way sitting up. But it was only the object of his thoughts, standing beside his bed, looking impossibly sweet and innocent in his button-up shirt. Wait…when had she changed into _that_?

“Belle,” he whispered.

“Sorry,” she said, wincing. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No…no…it’s fine, really. Are you okay? Did you need something, sweetheart?”

Even in the dark, Gold could see her bite her bottom lip, and _surely_ she knew by now what that did to him. Wordlessly, she lifted the covers, and he immediately scooted over to make room.

He made no hesitation to wrap her up in his arms, breathing deep the fresh, floral scent of her. She was still for several minutes, and he thought she’d fallen asleep, until she was twisting slightly in his arms, tilting her face up to his. Not needing to be asked twice, he lowered his mouth to hers, groaning low in his throat.

For a time they simply kissed, sweet, nibbling kisses, hands remaining still. But then she started to move, rolling until she was half on top of him, one hand going straight into his hair, like always.

Gold slid one hand down, then up under her (and he suspected that it was now officially _hers_ ) shirt to grasp her bottom, causing her to wiggle delightfully. For her part, the hand not tangled in his hair roamed his chest, popping open the buttons of his pajama top.

He pulled away from her mouth, only to move across the side of her jaw, licking and biting and making his way down until he found a spot at the juncture of her neck and shoulder that made her breath hitch, and fastened his mouth there. He sucked the skin there into his mouth _only_ lightly, not enough to leave a mark. He would wait and get her permission before he did that. It was enough, though, to have her bucking against him, whining pitifully.

In his limited experience, Gold had never made love to a virgin before. Instead of scandalized, he’d been relieved when Milah told him she’d been with other men before him. It had lifted some of the pressure. But Belle meant more to him than all of his previous lovers combined, and she’d never been with another man. It frightened him, because the last thing he wanted in the world was to hurt or scare her, or make it anything but a pleasurable experience. But it also made him feel honored, and if this was a gift Belle wanted to give him, he was going to give it back to her tenfold.

Feeling bold in the face of her obvious pleasure, he sat up a little to flip them over, so that he was on top. He pulled back briefly, just to check her face and make _sure_ everything was still ok. Her pupils were blown, looking impossibly dark in the dim light of his room.

“Adam,” she whispered, launching up to catch his lower lip in her own.

She was still wriggling, seeming completely unable to be still, and he relished it. He brought a hand tentatively up to cup her breast, growing more confident when she moaned, thumbing the pebbled nipple through the fabric of the shirt.

His other hand was still down by her thigh, moving in slow, soothing circles inward, closer to where he most wanted to be.

He pressed his erection into the mattress, trying to relive a little of the pressure, but it was difficult, braced as he was on one knee. He thought, dimly, that it would be easier with her on top, or with his prosthetic leg on the way he’d done with his last bedmate.

But Belle was innocent, and may be uncomfortable being on top, and he didn’t have it in him to stop things long enough to put on his leg.

The thought of logistics at least brought a little more blood back to the correct head, which allowed him to focus on who really mattered here. _Belle_.

She was moaning wildly, and…actually…starting to get a little loud. It was erotic in the extreme, but he had to remember that there were _three_ other people in the house.

But then, suddenly, her sneaky little hand was down at his groin, and then she was _touching_ him, and fucking hell, his son and the girls were adults. They would get over it.

Never one to take and not give, his fingers found her center, hot and soaking through her panties. He gave a moan of his own, hardly able to believe her reaction to him, and began to rub lightly.

“Adam,” she whined, and he shushed her with a kiss, despite his earlier thoughts.

The hand artlessly – yet distractingly – caressing him faltered, but he didn’t care, only doubled his pace on her. Her breath was coming in quick little pants, and he knew she was close, as incredible as it was.

He kissed down her past her neck, finding a nipple and fastening his mouth on it through the shirt. He maneuvered one finger under her panties, having to bite his tongue at how soft and slick she felt.

And then…everything went wrong.

She bucked into his hand, but her leg moved suddenly, catching his bad one, making him fall against her and cry out in pain.

“Oh my God,” she exclaimed, “Adam, honey, I’m so sorry!”

He rolled off of her, but was unable to speak for just a moment. It was only by chance that she’d happened to hit _just_ the right spot, which made his muscles convulse painfully.

“I’m sorry,” she was repeating over and over, and he realized with a feeling like a punch to the gut, that she was _crying_.

“Belle!” he exclaimed, forgetting his pain and sitting up, pulling her with him. “Oh sweetheart, no, oh please don’t cry.”

“I hurt you,” she whimpered. “I’m _so_ sorry!”

“I know,” he crooned, pulling her into his arms. “Oh, love, it was an accident. I knew I shouldn’t have been positioned like that without my leg, it was _my_ fault. You’re breaking my heart, _please_.”

Belle wiped her eyes, sniffling. “It’s just I was so afraid of doing something wrong, or hurting you. And I managed to do _both_.”

Gold pulled back, taking her face in his hands. “Belle, you listen here; you did absolutely _nothing_ wrong. I believe you could tell just how much I was enjoying that. There’s nothing you _could_ do wrong. Nothing! Sex is just…well, it’s awkward, sweetheart, especially at first. It’ll never be like it is in books, _throbbing members_ and whatnot,” she giggled at that. “Sometimes it takes a few tries to get it right. I’m forty-five years old, love, and I _still_ haven’t managed to get it right!”

“I know it’s not like books,” she said. “I just thought the _woman_ was supposed to experience pain the first time, not the _man_.”

She’d chuckled at her own joke, but he frowned. “For starters, the woman isn’t _supposed_ to experience pain. I suppose sometimes they do, but love, I have every intention on assuring that you experience _nothing_ but pleasure.”

Belle’s eyes widened, and she bit her lower lip. It was enticing, but Gold mentally scolded his own _throbbing member_ to behave itself. He was still hurting, and they were probably already going to have to deal with the embarrassment of everyone having heard them in the morning. No sense robbing them of sleep, too.

“Sorry,” he said, remembering something suddenly. “You don’t like to be called ‘love.’”

Belle smiled. “It’s different when _you_ say it.”

That sounded, to him, like an invitation, but he found his mouth had suddenly dried up.

“You want to sleep?” she asked shyly.

He laid down on his back, holding out an arm so she could nestle along his good side.

“Belle?” he said after a few moments of comfortable silence.

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

“And I love you, too, Adam.”

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

The morning hadn’t been as awkward as he’d feared. Emma and Ruby had seemed none the wiser, so perhaps they’d been sound asleep. He knew at least Ruby wouldn’t be clueless for long, if the way Belle was dragging her out of the house was any indication. No doubt to tell her all about it. He hoped that Ruby would comfort her, and reassure her that she’d done nothing wrong.

Jefferson had popped over for breakfast, exchanging bashful smiles with Ruby before the three girls left. But not before Belle had kissed Gold sweetly and told him she loved him, and he high suspected he’d _never_ get tired of hearing that.

“Damn, I missed out!” Jefferson laughed. “You didn’t tell me all the girls were sleeping over!”

“They took over my bedroom,” Gold said, hurrying to complete the sentence when Jefferson’s eyes and mouth flew open wide. “ _Without_ me, you imbecile!”

“But Belle didn’t stay there…” Neal said solemnly.

Gold and Jefferson turned to look at him, only then did Gold realize how quiet his son had been all morning. “Huh?” Jefferson asked.

Neal was sitting at the breakfast table, looking for all the world like he was about to tell a spooky ghost story. “I… _heard things_.”

“Oh no,” Gold muttered.

“Oh no!” Jefferson said as well, in an entirely different tone.

Neal wasn’t done, however. “Sounds…sounds from nice, sweet Belle and my _father_ that I _never_ wish to hear again.”

Jefferson was howling, while Gold had his head buried in one hand.

“Will you two get over it?” Gold barked. “You’re both grown men, for crying out loud!”

But they didn’t get over it, and Gold had to hear about it for the rest of the morning.

 

“Aw, don’t worry Belle, awkward shit like that happens to everyone,” Ruby said sympathetically once Belle had told them the embarrassing tale as they walked to Granny’s.

“Yeah, seriously, it’s no big deal,” Emma agreed, bravely overcoming the discomfort of hearing about her boyfriend’s dad’s sex life.

“That’s what Adam said,” Belle said with a sigh. “I still feel lousy that I ruined our first time.”

“Well, technically speaking, it _wasn’t_ your first time, so don’t sweat it,” Ruby said. “But I’m glad he was cool about it, I’d have to gut him if he’d made you feel bad.”

Belle chuckled. “Oh no, quite the opposite, he was _so_ sweet.”

“I couldn’t help but overhear you exchange the ‘L’ word this morning,” Emma said with a smirk.

“Yeah,” Belle said, cheeks hurting from grinning so wide. “But okay, let’s talk about something else. How’re things in Boston, Emma?!”

“Great!” she said. “Neal and I are headed to this really important protest in Washington in a couple of months. Maybe you guys could come?”

“That’d be amazing!” Ruby said. “I’ve never been to a real protest like that before.”

“Maybe,” Belle said hesitantly.

“Oh don’t worry, Belle, it’ll be totally peaceful. We’re not one of the more rowdy groups.”

“It’s not that,” Belle said. “I’ve just been sort of rethinking things lately.”

“What,” Ruby said. “Do you not want to be part of HEN anymore?”

Belle shrugged. “Maybe? Maybe not. I don’t know. I haven’t changed my _views_ on things, just…how I want to go about changing them.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Emma said softly. “I march, and protest, and rally, not because I expect an immediate result, but because it’s all I _can_ do right now. I’m not a congressperson or the President, I can’t sign a paper that gives women power, or people the right to love the way they want to, or that stops wars. But it doesn’t hurt…and it’s a start. If you think you need a different way, Belle, then you should go that way. I honestly believe you could do more and go farther than any of us could.”

Belle blinked in utter surprise. “Wh… _me_? Why?”

Emma shrugged, and looked at Ruby, who shrugged as well, as if to agree.

“You’re you, Belle,” Ruby answered for Emma as if it were simple as that. “You have more conviction and empathy in your pinky finger than most people have in their whole bodies. And you have this crazy knack for making people wanna be better.”

Belle hardly knew what to say. She had no clue that anyone thought that way about her, and it was humbling to say the least.

“We need a fundraiser first, though,” Emma said. “Before the Washington rally. Actually, Belle, I was hoping you’d help me out with it, and maybe hold it here in Storybrooke.”

“Oh, I don’t know…” Belle hesitated.

“What you did before with the concert was good, just… _not_ with _that_ crowd, you know?”

Belle and Ruby both chuckled.

“What I’m thinking is, we have a festival. Members of my group make things like dreamcatchers and blankets that always sell good, and that money can go toward the trip. Meanwhile, I’d like for actual ticket sales for the event to go toward a bigger cause or a charity, so it’s not all about us, yeah?”

“It sounds like a great idea,” Belle admitted. “Like what I had hoped for, but better. What do you need me for?”

Emma gave her a look. “I can’t do it _without_ you, Belle! I don’t know a lot about what charities are the best, but I bet anything that if you don’t already have an idea, you’d find one. And I was hoping you’d take charge of the entertainment.”

“I do have a couple of ideas about a good cause,” Belle said. “But why would you want me to book the entertainment? My track record there isn’t stellar!”

“But that wasn’t your fault,” Ruby said. “Except maybe succumbing to peer pressure. This time you have the support you should have had the first time.”

Belle grinned up at her friends, her mind already whirring with ideas.

The nice moment was ruined, however, by a very unwelcome presence.

“Hello, ladies,” Killian said in that usual smarmy way of his. “And little Emma Nolan, pleasure to see you again, love.”

“Jones,” Emma said flatly. “Where’re your lackeys? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without their presence to prop you up?”

Killian flapped a hand dismissively. “Eh who knows, and who needs ‘em. Meanwhile, I happen to find myself looking for some company,” he stepped closer to Emma. “What do you say, love? Want to go park at the beach in that little bug of yours watch the submarine races with me?”

Emma smiled in a way Belle knew to be dangerous. “How about a contest to see who can hold their breath the longest, you or the submarine?”

Killian backed away, trying to appear unfazed, although Belle could see his jaw clench. “Cute. How about you, Belly? Tired of _grandpa_ yet? Or maybe he hasn’t managed to stop crying and crawl his way out of the corner long enough to get it up yet.”

Ruby gasped, and Belle saw red, lurching forward to – she didn’t know yet, claw his eyes out, maybe punch him. She’d figure it out. But Emma stayed her hand, speaking calmly. “Just what are you referring to, Killian? Were you _there_ the night of the fire?”

For a split second, his expression faltered, replaced by a look of fear, but it was gone before Belle could really pinpoint it. “Nah, I just heard all about it. How pathetic is it that a couple stupid bottle rockets would scare the pansy?”

Emma smirked. “Funny, my father told me that the only bit of information made public was that the fire was started by _one_ firework. A sparkling shower. No one else knew _anything_ about the bottle rockets fired first.”

Belle gaped at her friend, and so did Killian, who rushed to backtrack. “I…I didn’t know, I just _said_ bottle rockets! What’re you trying to do, pin this on me?”

Emma made a wounded face. “I’m only making conversation. I’d never try to pin _anything_ on someone who _didn’t do it_.”

“Fuck you,” Killian said, then looked at Belle. “And you too. Hope you enjoy sucking off that shriveled old _gimp_.”

Belle froze, then looked up at Emma, who was still holding her arm. “Okay,” Emma said calmly, then released her.

Before Killian could dodge, Belle’s fist stuck out, punching him in the stomach. He wheezed, bowling over. “Stupid bitch!” he yelled, before hobbling away.

“That felt good,” Belle said.

“Felt good from over here, too! And I didn’t even do anything!” Ruby exclaimed. “Was that bullshit coming out of his mouth good enough as a confession, Emma?”

“Unfortunately, no, I don’t think so,” Emma said. “I caught him with the bottle rocket thing. But Dad didn’t _actually_ say that that part was specifically not made public. It wasn’t listed in the report under “cause of fire” though.”

“Still,” Belle said. “That was good. You ever think about becoming a cop?”

Emma smirked. “Like Daddy? Nah. But…” she shrugged. “Maybe something more like…a detective?”

“That’d be amazing, Emma!” Belle said. “You ever said anything to your dad?”

“No, I haven’t told anyone, not even Neal, but I’ve been thinking about it.”

“Well,” Ruby said, “If I were a crook, I’d be afraid.”

 

“Hm, not bad, Princess,” David told his daughter, when the three women had caught up with the sheriff at Adam’s shop, where he’d dropped by to suggest installing a sprinkler system. “You kept calm, didn’t get agitated, just like I taught you!”

Emma grimaced at her father’s nickname, but beamed at his praise. “I just wish I could have gotten more out of him. It would have been enough, right? With three witnesses?”

“Maybe try to refrain from interrogating him unless I’m around, but it was a good try,” David said.

“It sounds to _me_ like you have more than enough to put him behind bars,” Gold groused. “Forget what he did to my shop. He deserves to pay for what he did to _Belle_.”

“What did he do to Belle?” Emma asked, eyes narrowing.

“You didn’t hear?!” Ruby screeched. “The ass spiked Belle’s drink at our last rally with acid. And _then_ he tried to come on to her. Who knows what he would have done if Gold hadn’t come along.”

“I’ll kill him,” Emma said plainly, as if talking about getting coffee, eliciting a smile of approval from Adam.

“ _Unfortunately,_ ” David broke in. “It was the keg that was spiked, and we couldn’t prove that he’d done it. And Belle herself decided not to press charges for the assault.”

“You _what_?” Adam asked Belle, appalled. “Why didn’t you press charges?”

Belle sighed. “Because I didn’t want too much limelight on the whole event. I’m lucky David didn’t bring _me_ in due to the drug use there. Besides, he didn’t do enough to get more than a slap on the wrist, not that I’m complaining. But he _is_ going down for what he did to you and the shop.”

“And even if we can’t peg him for it,” David said. “I’m going to just keep watching him. It’s only a matter of time before he slips up.”

“That’s all well and good,” Gold growled. “Until his next _slip up_ causes someone to get _really_ hurt!”

David spread out his hands. “I’m doing the best I can, Gold. I have to do this by the book.”

Adam glared at the sheriff, a look that made Belle’s breath catch in her throat. She’d heard of “the Beast” of course, but she’d never _seen_ it. She knew he wasn’t threatening David though, and felt like David knew that as well.

“ _You_ have to,” Adam said warningly.

“Gold…” David said firmly, pointing a finger. “Don’t you go getting any ideas. I let you off the hook for hitting Killian, because you were just defending Belle. _Premeditation_ is something completely different!”

Adam shrugged innocently, folding both hands over the top of his cane. “I don’t know what you mean, Sheriff.”

“Cut the crap,” David said with a roll of his eyes. “We’re past this, Adam.”

Adam’s cheek twitched in annoyance at the use of his first name, and Belle had to bite her lip to keep from smiling.

David sighed. “I have to go. But I’m _warning you_ Gold, _don’t_ do anything stupid!”

“I’d never,” Adam said innocently.

“David’s right,” Belle said after the sheriff had left. “Leave it be, Adam. Killian isn’t worth you getting into trouble over.”

“He hurt you,” Adam said tightly, grasping her arm and squeezing gently. “He hurt you, he assaulted you, he could have _killed_ you in that fire, and he insulted and spoke crudely to you on the street. How can I just let this stand?”

Belle took his face between her own hands. “By knowing that he’ll get what’s coming to him. It may not be right away, but it’ll happen. Bad people always get what they deserve.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

She pecked his lips lightly. “I am. And you’re sure about me, right?”

At that, he smiled lovingly. “I am.”

“Oookay, y’all know we’re still here, right?” Neal said, indicating himself, Emma, and Ruby.

Adam made a thoughtful face. “And just why _is_ that exactly?” Belle swatted him playfully.

Emma chuckled, offering Belle a quick hug before dragging her boyfriend and friend out of the shop.

Adam sighed once they were gone, pulling Belle closer. “As much as I adore my son,” he said. “And though I find I don’t really mind all of my other new…friends. It gets rather tiring having so… _many_ people around all the time.”

Belle tensed slightly, worrying her lower lip. She’d been a little afraid of this. He had, after all, been a loner for a long time. “Um, that’s understandable. It’s a lot in a short amount of time. You know…you can…you can _tell_ me if you want time alone. It won’t hurt my feelings…I can go right now…”

“Belle, Belle,” Adam tried to cut off her rambling. “Sweetheart, I didn’t mean _you_! I’m sorry you took it that way.”

“No, really, don’t worry about me…”

“Belle, do you _want_ to spend more time apart?”

Belle’s eyes widened. “No! I didn’t mean that! I just…”

This time, Adam cut her off by kissing her, indulging a good few minutes before slowly pulling back. “Having a lot of people around all of the time _is_ odd to me after so long in my own dull company, but it’s time alone with _you_ that I’ve come to truly cherish. If anything, I worry about monopolizing _your_ time.”

Belle shook her head. “I guess we’re just a couple of dips, aren’t we?”

Adam chuckled. “I suppose we are. Now, can you stay a little while now? Or do you have to get to the floral shop?”

“No I have some time…” her eyes twinkled. “If you’re wanting company, that is.”

“Always, my dearest,” he said. “No matter my mood, no matter how much of an ass I’m being, no matter if I want everyone else in the world to just _go away_ , there will never be a time that I don’t want you around.”

“Never is a long time,” Belle said. “And you haven’t seen me when _I’m_ grumpy.”

“Perhaps those can be the days I try to cheer _you_ up. Or perhaps those can be the days we can just be grumpy together.”

Belle chuckled. “I oddly like the sound of that. Now listen, there’s something I wanted to run by you, but not when anyone else was around.”

One of Adam’s eyebrows rose in interest. “Oh? And just what would that be?”

“Don’t get _too_ excited. You probably won’t like it. But that’s why I wanted to ask you first.”

“Okay, shoot.”

“I think I’m done with HEN.”

Now Adam’s brows were rising in surprise. “What? Why, Belle? If that Jones boy has scared you from…”

“No, no, it’s not because of him. Really. I just keep thinking about what you said about not actually getting anything _done_.”

“Belle…I…I shouldn’t have discouraged you that way, I’m sorry. You _do_ make a difference, just by being who you are!”

Belle smiled shyly. “Emma and Ruby actually said something similar. I’m not saying I want to give up trying to make a difference, I just think I want to try going at it a different way.”

Adam ran a hand up and down her back. “And what’s that?”

“There are plenty of people protesting the war, people like Emma, and they’re doing the best they can. But I don’t think there are enough of us trying to help the people coming _home_ from the war. I’ve been doing research, and the VA is overwhelmed and poorly managed. These men and their families need help. I want to start an organization to help them with things like therapy and medical needs…like prosthetics. Also legal help, and getting the benefits the government owes them. And hopefully in time, the war _will_ be over for good, and I can help anyone who has trouble getting the help they need. But I don’t know enough about that sort of organization so I thought…maybe I should go back to school…”

Adam shook his head in wonder. “Belle, honey, that sounds _wonderful_. God, if only more people in this world could be more like you. And if you want to go back to school, I will support you every step of the way, and help in any way I can…or that you’ll let me. But why did you think you need to _ask_ me?”

“Well, that wasn’t the part I wanted to ask you about,” she said, grinning sheepishly. “I just had to tell you that part first. Emma is planning a festival, and she mentioned maybe holding it in Storybrooke. It’ll attract a big crowd, but not like the last one. And it’ll be a fundraiser, and she asked me if I could choose a worthy cause to donate to, and I think it should be the DAV.”

“That’s great…but…”

“Okay, okay, here’s the part I wanted to ask you…” she took a deep breath, fortifying her nerve. “Will you play?”

Adam balked, releasing her and stepping away. “Belle…”

Belle waved her hands excitedly. “Just hear me out for a second, please?”’ Adam nodded for her to continue. “It would really be something good, a group comprised of war veterans, showing themselves as normal, relatable people, not violence-hungry barbarians. It would be you, Jefferson, Victor, Archie, and David. Storybrooke would _love_ it, and so would everyone else! Adam, you are so, _so_ talented, and I, personally, believe the world should know. But…if you don’t want to, or you just feel like you’re not ready…then say the word, and I won’t ask again.”

Adam stared hard at her, and Belle could find absolutely no hint of what he was thinking. She hoped, at least, that he wasn’t angry, but she meant what she said. If he said no, she would leave it at that.

He sighed, then ran his hand through his hair. “Can I think about it?”

“Yes!” Belle exclaimed. “Yes, definitely! Take all the time you need! I mean, the benefit is in a couple of weeks, but yes! Please, think about it.”

He chuckled. “Why don’t you come back this evening? I found some more albums while we were checking through the inventory. We can have some dinner and listen to music, and I’ll give you my answer.”

“Oh, ok!” Belle said happily. “That sounds great! Just us?!”

“Why do you think I’m inviting you to my shop instead of the house? Yes, I’m asking for some alone time with you. …That okay?”

“More than,” Belle said slyly. “In that case, I guess I’ll see you tonight.”

 

Belle bustled through the day, all but forgetting about her request to Adam in her anticipation of just being _alone_ with him for an extended period of time. She didn’t expect them to _do_ anything, but it would be so nice to just sit and cuddle and kiss without Neal, Jefferson, or Ruby playfully going “eww” or worse, offering commentary like they were narrating a nature documentary.

_“And now we see that the male is tentatively initiating a mating dance with the female. She will either accept or reject his advances depending on her reaction to his hand on her…”_

_“Shut UP, Jefferson!!”_

_“The male has become territorial…”_

She ran up to the apartment above the florist that she shared with her father after her shift to change into a nicer outfit. She considered her favorite yellow dress. She hadn’t worn it since the failed rally, and worried it would just serve to remind Adam of the way she was mid-trip. But it was still one of her favorites. In the end, though, she decided to give it more time, and opted instead for a blue dress she seldom wore. It was more demure than most she had, fitted, but with a more conservative hemline. It had a white collar and pockets, but it was the added detail of a row of buttons all the way up and down the back of the dress that she liked the best. It made it difficult to get into by herself, but she thought it was ginchy.

And…as a second thought, she decided to wear her best underwear. It didn’t matter whether he _saw_ them or not, but it made her feel more confident regardless. She didn’t have time to iron her hair, but the curls were framing her face nicely, and if the evening went the way she’d like it to, her boyfriend would only end up mussing it up anyway.

“Going on a date?” her dad asked as she made her way back through the store.

“Yep,” she chirped.

“Are you…uh…staying over?”

“Papa…” she said warningly. “None of your business, remember?”

He sighed. “I only _meant_ should I expect you home tonight? Grown up or not, I worry when I don’t know where my daughter is.”

Belle smiled, and kissed his cheek. “Sorry. We’re just eating dinner at his shop. If I end up back at his house, it’ll just be in the company of Neal and probably Emma. I’ll phone you if I do, though, okay?”

“Alright,” he relented. “Doesn’t it _bother_ you, your boyfriend having a son closer to age to you than he is?”

“Not as much as one would think,” she said, shrugging. “You don’t always pick who you love, right?”

“Love?” he asked, eyes wide. “Never heard you talk like _that_ before. Are you in love with him?”

“Yeah, I am,” she said, smiling. “I know our relationship will have obstacles, but they don’t even really _feel_ like obstacles to me, because I’m just so happy to overcome them with him.”

“You look happy.”

“I guess that’s because I am.”

Maurice sighed long-sufferingly and hugged her. “If you’re happy, I’m happy. And I guess this means I probably ought to spend some time with the man, get to know him outside of rent collection.”

“I think that would be great, Papa! But…not tonight, bye!”

With that, Belle practically skipped out, making her way quickly to her love’s shop. When she opened the door, smiling at the sound of the brand new bell, she didn’t immediately see him. Figuring he was in the back, she took the liberty of flipping the sign to “Closed” and firmly locked the door. Just for good measure.

She walked over to the chaise lounge, thankfully undamaged in the fire, and now practically hidden behind the piano, and saw a small table set up with hors d’oeuvres; cheese, bite-sized sandwiches, strawberries, and wine.

Smiling, she turned around, meaning to find her errant love, only to find him standing right behind her, a soft look in his eyes. How the man moved so quietly with a limp and a cane was a mystery.

“I know you didn’t get this from Granny’s,” she said, grinning up at him.

He chuckled. “No I did not, I happened to put this together myself. I thought it would be easiest to eat while we sit and listen.”

“Looks perfect to me.”

Belle sat as Adam set a record to playing, Marvin Gaye by the sound of it, not that she was really paying that close attention to anything but him. When he sat down beside her, she offered him one of the sandwiches, giggling in surprise when he bit it out of her hand. Thinking that was a nice idea, she offered him a small bite of cheese the same way. He plucked it from her with his teeth, _accidentally_ nipping her finger in the process. She gasped, and he took her hand, wordlessly apologizing for the bite by sucking the offended digit into his mouth.

Belle chuckled nervously when he released her, and she settled more comfortably against him. When he offered her a bite of food, she followed his example, biting the strawberry while he held it, and when it was gone, darting her tongue out to catch the juice on his hand. It was an unconscious gesture, not meaning to be seductive, but she couldn’t miss the way his eyes seemed to darken.

They fed each other in companionable silence, the only sounds being the crooning coming from the record player, and the occasional laugh when their game got a little messy.

When they were done, they sat back, cuddled together, sipping the wine.

“I made a decision,” he said at last.

“A decision? Oh! A decision! Okay. And please, don’t worry, I won’t be mad if the answer is no. Truly.”

“The other boys would like it,” he said quietly.

“Yes…” she said, not daring to hope. “They would. I think maybe you would too. But _only_ if you want to, and feel ready.”

“…And it would benefit the DAV.”

“…Yeah.”

“Okay.”

Belle blinked. “W…what? Okay?”

“I said okay. I’ll do it.”

“S…seriously?! Just like that?!”

Adam chuckled. “Do you want me to, or not?”

“Yes, of course! But…are you _sure_?”

“I’m sure. On _one_ condition.”

Belle grinned. “Name it!”

“On the condition that you’ll sing.”

Belle’s smile fell slightly, settling into a look of anxiousness. “Sing? Me? On a stage? In front of people?”

“Mmhmm. You talk about my talent, but you don’t seem to realize your own. And I loved playing with you that night. You don’t have to sing in _every_ number if you don’t want, but at least one. Does that sound like a fair deal?”

“It does,” Belle said, nodding. “If you can be brave enough, so can I. The deal is struck.”

She giggled when he stuck out his hand, and shook it firmly. They held like that for a beat, and then Adam was slowly pulling her closer, until their mouths could meet.

Belle sighed into the kiss, tilting her face to get a better angle. _God_ but he was a good kisser.

For a long time it was gentle, unrushed. Loving, but not passionate. But then Belle’s hand snuck into his hair, loving the way it felt slipping through her fingers, then it was like she’d flipped a switch and he was growling deep in his chest, hauling her against him until all she could do was swing her leg over both of his, straddling him.

The sudden movement made her fingers clench in his hair, accidentally yanking sharply. Adam broke off with a gasp, his face wincing.

“Sorry!” she yelped, cursing herself for seemingly being _unable to stop hurting the poor man!_ “I didn’t mean to pull!”

But then he was chuckling breathily, in a way she’d never heard before, and the look on his face would have been intimidating in its intensity if she didn’t trust him so much. Even still though, it made her breath catch.

He took the hand that had fallen away from his head, pressed a hard kiss to her palm, before guiding it back up. When he finally spoke again, his voice was rough. “Pull my hair, Belle.”

Surprised, a little confused, and aroused in a way she didn’t fully understand, she flexed her fingers experimentally, tightening her hold gradually and watching his expression slack until his mouth opened slightly and he was breathing like he was running a marathon.

Getting the message, and making up her mind, she pulled… _hard_.

All at once his mouth and hands were _everywhere_. He kissed her mouth, her face, her jaw, and her neck almost clumsily, unable to stay in any one spot. He bit and suckled at her skin, and she _knew_ there’d be marks. And she also really didn’t care.

One hand found her breast, kneading it carefully, the gentle manner a contrast to the franticness of the rest of him. His other hand found its way up her dress and to her ass, as she was quickly learning was a favorite for him.

This hadn’t been what she expected when she imagined their first time. (And she HAD imagined it!) She’d pictured being in his house, on his bed, or maybe even going a trip together and finding a romantic bed and breakfast.

But she quickly decided, with what few thoughts she was still able to put together, that this was perfect. This was right.

Her fingers flew to his shirt, desperate to get to his skin. She made short work of the buttons, and splayed her hands across his lean, but strong, chest. He made a quick sound of approval, and then his hand began roaming her back, presumably to find a zipper. When what he found, instead, were countless tiny buttons, he grunted, pulling away with a dazed, disgruntled expression.

“Guess I found the downside to this dress,” she giggled breathlessly, struggling to stand up.

He whined pitifully, but he didn’t try to pull her back down, and she liked that. He would never push her. She took a moment to take in his appearance, and she liked _that_ as well. His hair was a disaster, his shirt wide open, his chest flushed red and heaving. And the area close to where she’d just been sitting sported an impressive bulge – not that she had any other point of reference to compare it to.

Smiling in a way that was meant to be demure and she hoped didn’t look crazy, she turned around giving him her back.

He didn’t touch her for a full minute, and she frowned, afraid he was having second thoughts. But apparently his brain was just taking extra time to catch up because she suddenly felt his hands at the top of her dress, busily undoing buttons. Or trying to at least.

She couldn’t help but laugh at his grumbles of frustration, but it turned to a yelp when he pinched her side in retaliation.

“What sort of sadist made this monstrosity?” he growled.

“An hour ago you were telling me it looked pretty,” she said, still smirking.

“It _does_ look pretty. But right now I hate it and I just want it _off_ of you!”

“You and me both.”

There was a pop, and the tell-tale sound of a button hitting the floor, followed by a soft “ _fuck_.”

“I can fix that,” he sighed.

Belle took a deep breath, feeling her face flame, and knowing she was probably going to regret her words a little later, but damn it if she wasn’t just as frustrated as he was.

“Do it,” she said, firmly.

He clearly didn’t need or care about an elaboration, because his hands instantly grabbed the sides near the top where he’d only managed to undo four buttons, and _jerked_. Buttons flew everywhere and her dress pooled at her feet. As if to make up for ruining it, Adam picked the dress back up and draped it over the piano bench, then sat back to look at her.

She turned around to face him, feeling like her whole body must be bright red. But any self-consciousness was banished in the face of his awed expression.

“ _God_ , but you’re incredible,” he whispered. “I can hardly believe you’re real.”

“I’m real,” she said shyly. “And _you’re_ overdressed.”

His chuckle turned to a strangled _yip_ when she bent to reach for his fly, deftly undoing the belt and buttons. He lifted up to pull help her pull his pants down, but didn’t seem to realize until it was too late that she’d taken his underwear with them.

His cock bounced up once free of its confines, and Belle’s curious eyes raked over it hungrily. She’d seen them before, of course, and had even touched one. (The boyfriend previous to Gaston, but it had been dark, in the back of a car, and Belle hadn’t been impressed.) But she’d never been allowed to just _look_ before, and the knowledge that she _was_ allowed, that she could proceed how she wanted, even if it meant she wanted to stop, was heady.

It twitched, as if it knew it was being watched and was begging for more attention, and she reached down to run a finger lightly up one side.

Adam threw back his head and hissed through his teeth, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Belle kept an eye on his expression as she wrapped her hand around him, squeezing gently. He seemed to like that, so she tried moving her hand up and down along it, loving the feel of how hot and _hard_ it was, yet the skin was so soft.

“You’re killing me,” he groaned.

“We wouldn’t want that,” she said primly, taking her hand off of him. “What fun would there be, then?”

His eyes opened, and his hands shot out to grab her around the waist. “Minx,” he growled. “I believe _you’re_ the one who’s overdressed now, darling.”

Feeling less shy in the face of his very obvious desire, she swayed a bit to the music that was still playing, watching him smile darkly as she made a show of pushing her chest out and contorting her arms to unhook her bra, before tossing it playfully at him.

She shimmied out of her panties then, and tossed those at him as well. But some of her shyness came back with a spark of shock when he brought the panties up to his face and breathed in deeply, never taking his eyes off of hers.

Adam held out a hand, not _reaching_ for her, but inviting her. Letting her set the pace.

She remembered what he’d said during their last attempt, that her being on top would be better for him. She realized then, that he meant for them to carry on the way they’d been sitting before, with her astride him. She took his hand and stepped closer to him again.

She must have been wrong, however, because he stopped her when she started to climb back onto his lap. To her confusion, he bent forward and gently grabbed her behind one knee before slowly guiding her leg up, giving her plenty of time to pull away if she wished it.

He settled her leg on his shoulder, her foot against the back of the chaise, with one hand splayed firmly on her backside and the other holding hers to help her keep her balance.

She was feeling a little unsure and _exposed_ that way, but before she could ask him what he wanted her to do now, he was kissing her inner thigh, moving slowly but steadily upward, closer and closer to...

Now, one thing she _had_ thought she’d understood was that men generally didn’t like to do _that_. It wouldn’t have occurred to her to ask it of him, so why did he seem so eager about it?

She wanted to say something, tell him he didn’t have to, her self-consciousness was warring with innate curiosity, but he was leaving little bites along her thigh, and it was making her head spin. She was so caught up in that, and wondering where he was going with this, when suddenly his mouth was _there_ , where she was wet and aching. He was kissing her as passionately as he kissed her mouth, lapping at her and moaning like he was loving every minute.

It was unlike anything she had ever felt. Every nerve in her body felt like it was humming, and every breath that she released was coming out in little high pitched moans.

She held his hand in a death grip, the foot resting on the floor rising up on tip-toe, causing her thigh to shake. Her other hand found its way back to his hair, pulling the strands roughly, which only made him devour her more thoroughly.

His hand that had been on her ass moved around and between her legs, and she felt a long finger probe into her. She’d done enough self-exploration that this didn’t surprise her, in fact it only added to the sensation, especially when he added a second one, stretching her pleasantly.

She moaned louder, and a thought half-formed in her mind that they were in the _front_ of his shop. If someone heard her, they might peer into the window, and they would be able to see her even behind the piano since she was standing. She should probably care…she _did_ care…but it was so hard to remember why at the moment.

When her cries increased in volume and speed, and her hips began to move of their own volition, his fingers pumping inside of her picked up speed as well. She felt like she _needed_ something, but wasn’t sure how to ask for it.

She needn’t have worried though, because his mouth found her clit, circling with his tongue before _sucking_ on it.

Belle cried out sharply, her whole body going rigid as lights flashed behind her eyes. She would have fallen down if Adam wasn’t holding her up.

Her leg couldn’t take her weight anymore though, and, still pulsing, she fell bonelessly into his lap.

“Wow…” she said dazedly.

He chuckled, holding her tightly to him. She could feel him pressed between his stomach and hers, and she reached down to stroke him lovingly.

“As nice as that is,” he breathed. “If you want this to keep going, you’d better stop. I won’t be able to recover as quickly as you can.”

Belle gave him an affectionate squeeze before releasing him, then looking up at his eyes expectantly.

“Are you ready?” he asked. “Please be sure. If at any time you want to stop, you need only to say the word. You know that, right? I won’t be upset with you if you want to end it here, but I need you to tell me.”

“I know,” she said softly. “But I don’t want to stop. I’m just not sure what I should _do_.”

Adam smiled and gently guided her into rising up with her knees braced on the chaise on either side of his thighs. He took his cock in hand, holding it still as he gently guided her back down. She felt him there, the head pressing against her opening. Adam stopped then, however, letting her take the lead.

She concentrated on breathing steadily as she slowly continued to lower her body, wriggling a little to adjust. It was a strange sensation, not _pain_ really, but not pleasure either. She felt full and stretched. Taking a deep breath, she let herself fall the rest of the way down, taking all of him. He slid inside surprisingly easily after that, and if this was all it was going to be like to her, the expression on Adam’s face made it _more_ than worth it. Besides, what he’d done for her moments before was a very equal tradeoff.

“Are you okay?” he asked, sounding positively and deliciously wrecked.

“I’m perfect,” she said. “You were right, no pain.”

“Told you,” he breathed. “And you _are_ perfect.”

He bucked his hips, causing her to bounce upward with him. She struggled to match his pace, and it took a few false starts, but they soon managed to find a rhythm.

His eyes moved from hers down to her breasts, watching how they moved, so she pushed her chest out toward him. He leaned forward to suck one her nipples into his mouth and she groaned, never having known that being touched and kissed there could feel so good, especially when his other hand came up to twist and pluck at the other nipple.

His thrusts were starting to become more frantic, and she worked to keep up with him, desperate for him to feel the way he’d made her feel before.

It felt good just being so _close_ to him, as close as two people can get, and she loved watching him. She wondered, though, how long she could keep moving like this, until something changed…big time. He tilted his hips to one side, and he pushed into her a different way, and somehow he hit something inside of her that robbed her of breath and made her see stars.

He must have noticed her reaction, because he released her nipple with a pop and looked up at her questioningly, her pace slowing. “Are you okay?”

She nodded frantically, biting her lower lip so hard it might bleed. “Please don’t stop,” she begged, her movements desperate.

With a low growl, he fastened his lips to hers and redoubled his effort, managing to hit that same spot again and again. He snuck a hand between then, and all it took was one pinch to her clit and she was coming even harder than before.

She hadn’t had time to come down off her high, when suddenly he was roughly lifting her off him, and she gave a cry of alarm until she felt something warm and wet hit her thigh.

She wondered about that for only a moment before understanding what he’d done, and she cringed at the realization that it hadn’t _once_ occurred to her to exercise caution, and she was relieved that he’d had the presence of mind to think of it for her.

Not that a baby with Adam was a _bad_ thought…just…not _yet_.

His arms went limp, letting her flop gracelessly against his chest. She squirmed to find a more comfortable position, nuzzling her nose into his neck, and sighed as his arms tightened around her once more. “Hold still, you little vixen,” he commanded, but with a light, breathy voice that she knew was teasing. “It’ll be some time yet before I’m capable of responding to you again, but you’re making it a difficult wait.”

Belle giggled, but stilled her movements, only until her legs became stiff where they were still bent on either side of him, and she was forced to finally move off of him.

She blushed furiously at the sight and feeling of their mixed fluids smeared all over both their thighs and lower stomachs.

“I guess I never realized how messy this could be,” she murmured, lightly touching her sticky skin and noticing that some had gotten on the couch as well. She wondered if it would leave a stain, because if it did, she was never going to be able to look at it while Adam had customers or friends in his shop without blushing. Oh, who was she kidding, she was going to blush anyway.

“Yes,” Adam said lazily, his arm tight around her waist, not letting her move any farther away from him. “They never mention that part in your novels, do they?”

She laughed again. “No.”

He opened his eyes, seeming to finally come fully back to himself, and looked sharply at her. “Are you okay? You’re not hurt?” he looked at her legs, then at himself, presumably to check for blood, but finding none.

“I’m wonderful,” she said, smiling wide. “And you? Your leg is okay?”

He smirked at her. “If I’m a little sore tomorrow, it will have been well-worth it my love.”

“Oh good…so we can do it again, later?”

He laughed, one of his open, happy laughs that were far too rare. “I think I’ve created a monster.”

“And what will you do with this monster of yours?”

“You’ll soon find out, sweetheart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, you've just been treated to my first ever attempt at smut. Lol. And finally! The prompt! I told you it was in there! Maybe it'll pop up again, too. ;)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More smut?? Yeah ok, here we go. :D

Gold was aching by the time they made it home that night, but in the best possible way. He suspected that Belle was too, being so unused to that sort of…exertion.

He’d asked her if she wanted him to take her home, and he wouldn’t have minded overmuch, thinking maybe she needed a little time alone after taking such a big step, so he’d tried to keep his desire for her to stay out of his voice. He needn’t have bothered though, because she just quipped about him “not getting rid of her so easily,” and they made their way to his house together.

Though it was very late, Neal and Emma were watching television in the living room. Some inane telethon by the looks of it, but what else would have been on at that hour? They were cuddled up innocently on the sofa, but by the looks of their mussed hair and flushed cheeks, he suspected that their positions had been a lot less innocent until they’d heard his car pull up.

“Hey guys,” Neal said after clearing his throat.

Gold pulled Belle by the hand toward the staircase. “We’re turning in for the night, you two behave yourselves, hm?”

Neal snorted. “Look who’s talking. Nice lipstick, Dad.”

Gold frowned in confusion until Belle giggled suddenly, reaching up to swipe at something on his neck, coming away with a hint of pale pink on her fingertips.

Gold rolled his eyes, and almost missed a look passing between Emma and Belle. He chose to ignore it, however. It was far too knowing for his comfort. That Belle and her close friends would share details about their intimate relationships was something he understood to be a forgone conclusion. That one of said close friends was his son’s girlfriend, and therefore certain details were destined to pass between the two, was something he tried not to think too hard on.

He led his sweet little love up the stairs to his master suite and straight to the bathroom to turn on the shower. That was when he remembered the damn shower chair that he had to keep inside, and wished fervently that he’d taken her to the hallway bathroom instead.

“Something wrong?” she asked him.

“I…uh…” he stammered, momentarily distracted by the sight of her casually disrobing. She’d been resplendent in the dim light of his shop, but even in the unforgiving bright light of his bathroom she was gorgeous. In here he could see imperfections in her skin, dimples on her thighs, a scar on the small of her back that he made a note to ask about later. None of it did a single thing to take away from just how stunning she was to him.

“Aren’t you coming in with me?” she asked sweetly, seeming completely devoid of shyness as she stood before him, naked as the day she was born.

Remembering the source of his earlier discomfort, he shook his head. “I uh…it’s not that easy, sweetheart,” he reached around her, trying not to become overwhelmed by her nakedness, and pulled back the curtain, indicating the ugly plastic chair inside. Like something you’d see in a damned old folks’ home. “Unfortunately, I can’t take my leg in. It isn’t water-proof and I…well…you go first my love, and I’ll shower after.”

Belle looked from the chair and back at him. “Well, yes, I figured you might have something like that. You’re acting like a chair should bother me?”

He grunted, wishing she would get the message without him having to explain it. “I can’t take a…a sexy shower with you, Belle. For me it’s, quite frankly, an undignified process.”

What he wouldn’t _give_ to be a whole man for her. He knew she didn’t mind his disability, he _knew_ that, but what he wouldn’t give for the ability to hop into that steaming shower with her, lather her up, then take her hard against the wall like he once could have.

Belle made a face, and despite his knowledge that she loved him, old insecurities were hard to overcome and for a moment he thought she was finally coming to her senses about him.

“I wasn’t really looking for a…how did you put it? Sexy shower? I just thought we were gonna get clean so we could go to bed. I mean…as much fun as I had earlier…I’m a little tired, and I thought you were too. I won’t try to talk you into getting in with me if it makes you uncomfortable, but for the record, that chair looks pretty handy to me. For when we _aren’t_ tired…”

Gold blinked, her meaning taking a moment to break through the fog of self-pity he was wallowing in. “Fuck…” he murmured.

She giggled and rolled her eyes at him, then got into the shower without another word. He could hear her moving around, and decided he really _was_ being stupid, and set about taking off his clothes, and then sat down on a bench placed near the shower to take off his leg.

He was glad she was already in the shower, so she wouldn’t have to see him do his half-shuffle half-hop, propped up with his cane. Maybe one day, after they were more comfortable with one another, when it wasn’t so _new_ , he wouldn’t mind letting her see him in all of his awkward glory, but there could be very little in the world more unsightly than a one-legged man hopping while naked.

He opened the curtain and found her already smiling at him, apparently having been listening for his approach. He’d made the right choice, and she was pleased with him.

She held out her hands, and held onto him firmly as he settled in the chair. She was really quite strong for such a little thing.

His little Belle then began the process of lathering up her washcloth and set about washing him, starting at his neck. She was silent and businesslike, not touching to tease but only to get him clean. She was nothing like a nurse, however, standing intimately between his knees, and smiling lovingly at him.

It took all of his power to fight his instincts that told him to push her away, that he didn’t _need_ help to bathe, he wasn’t an invalid. But Belle knew that he was no invalid. This wasn’t an act of duty or pity, but one of love and intimacy, and it left him feeling lightheaded.

So he sat back, and allowed himself to enjoy her attentions. It didn’t matter that his body agreed with Belle’s earlier statement that they were both tired and ready for bed, and that there was nothing sexual in Belle’s movements, his cock well and truly had a mind of its own and was becoming increasingly interested in what was going on.

As more blood fled from his brain downward, his eyes moved from Belle’s serene face down to where her breasts swayed as she bent over him, water dripping from the tips. They were only inches from his mouth…

But then she was kneeling, and he gulped. Her eyes shot up in mock reproof at the state of his arousal and he gave her a sheepish look in return.

“Sorry,” he said. “He can’t help himself. There’s a beautiful, wet, naked woman in front of him. He’s weak.”

Belle laughed and shook her head, carefully washing his thighs were there was still dried cum even after cleaning up at the shop. His cock twitched in response, and he grunted. “Just ignore it, sweetheart,” he said seriously. “It’ll go away on its own.”

Belle still didn’t speak however, and just proceeded to wash his leg, and then his foot. He tensed when she moved to his half-leg, but she only washed the scarred stump like it was any other part of him, no special attention whatsoever. Somehow that touched him more than if she _had_ taken extra care there. He had a flashback to her telling him she wouldn’t mind massaging it for him when it was sore, and he was beginning to think he might just have to take her up on that.

He thought she would stand then, and let him rinse off so that they could be done. But she didn’t rise, and he realized that she was staring right at his cock.

He yelped at the first brush of her fingers. “Darling, you needn’t do that! We don’t have to…”

“I know,” she murmured, tucking the washrag underneath her knees to cushion them. For some reason, that only inflamed him further…like she was preparing to stay for a while.

She wrapped those devious fingers around his length and squeezed, harder than she had dared the first time, evidentially already having learned that he didn’t have to be treated like glass there.

She gave him a few tugs, her movements unsure and unpracticed, but it drove him wild. When she paused, he looked down at her, breathing hard, and watched as she cradled his balls in her palm. She squeezed them gently, and it didn’t hurt, but reflex made him still her hand immediately. “Careful there,” he warned, his voice gone gravelly.

“Got it,” she said, and he was happy that she didn’t apologize. He hated that she ever felt sorry when everything she did made him feel like he was on fire. “I want you to teach me.”

“Teach you what?” he asked. “You’re doing splendidly on your own, my love.”

Belle gave a pout. “But I want to know what _really_ makes you feel good.”

He chuckled. “Belle, I swear, everything you’re doing feels good. Feels _amazing,_ in fact. I would let you know if something _didn’t_ feel good, just like I fully expect and _insist_ you do for me. But there’s really very little you could do that wouldn’t make my head spin.”

“Then…you wouldn’t mind if I tried something? Something I’ve always been a bit curious about?”

Why did those words make his heartrate increase so much? “I…Belle…you can do… _whatever_ you want. I’m yours, sweetheart. Totally and completely.”

She grinned, and her shoulders bounced like he’d just told her she could have an extra sweet after supper. But then she sobered, and hesitated unsurely. “But what if I don’t like it?”

He blinked. What a ridiculous question. “Then you stop,” he said simply, because it really was that simple. “And we never discuss it again.”

Her smiled returned, as did her hand to his cock, causing him to groan. She gave a few more experimental pulls, her other hand tracing the veins along the side curiously, and then just barely touching the tip.

He wondered dimly if one could die from sexual frustration. He’d fully meant what he’d said, he was absolutely hers to explore and experiment on to her precious heart’s content. She was inexperienced and possessed such a delightful curious spirit that he adored. She loathed not knowing things, and for as long as he’d known her she would pursue knowledge of any unknown subject with the ferocity of a lioness on the hunt. He was absolutely certain she’d read any number of tawdry romance novels, but the lack of practical application probably drove her crazy.

But right now, her practical application was driving _him_ crazy. Her light touches more than enough to enflame him but not nearly enough to bring him to completion. He clenched his fists on his thighs, pressing discreetly into his bad one so that the slight pain would keep him focused on not moving. Anything to keep from trying to urge her on.

He thought he was doing well, but all that flew right out the window and into the sun because without warning, there was a warmth on the tip of his cock that had nothing to do with the hot shower spray.

His eyes flew open wide and looked down to see her giving an open-mouthed kiss to the scarlet head.

“Oh my God…” he shouted loudly enough that his voice echoed.

 “Shh!” Belle hushed, pulling her unbelievable mouth away from him. “We don’t know if Neal and Emma have come upstairs!”

Not even the names of his son and his son’s girlfriend could calm him now, and he struggling to reclaim his control.

He had to keep struggling, however, when she lowered her head to him again, and that tongue of hers licked him from base to tip in one long swipe like she was licking a fucking ice cream cone.

“Christ, Belle,” he hissed. “You don’t need…you don’t have…”

“I know I don’t _have_ to,” she said. “But you said I could try what I want. And I want. Is it alright?”

“Alright?” he huffed in a laugh. “I’m not…I’m not sure if… “alright”…is the…is the correct word…”

She smirked, the little devil, and kissed the very tip of his cock again before opening her mouth and taking him inside.

Gold had to bite his lip hard to keep from crying out, and he tasted blood. It took every single ounce of self-control to keep from grabbing her head and thrusting up into her delicious mouth helplessly.

Her movements were tentative and light, moving her mouth up and down his shaft, fitting more and more in each time, but he knew he could very well come from this alone. Just the _sight_ of her head bobbing before him…

She released him with an obscene _pop_ and kissed down the side again, lapping at him like he was the most delicious thing she’d ever tasted.

“Tell me how to do this,” she said breathlessly, and she couldn’t be getting as aroused by this as he was…surely?

“I…don’t think I need to,” he gasped. “Just where did…you learn this…anyway?”

She grinned shamelessly. “I read a lot. But, really, please…I _want_ you to tell me, Adam. Guide my movements, if you need to.”

Something in her voice caught his attention through the haze of lust, and he suddenly had a strong suspicion that this wasn’t _just_ about instruction.

Licking his lips, and fighting back a wave of bashfulness, he brought a hand to her head, twisting his fingers into her wet hair. At her first moan he remembered how it had felt when she’d pulled _his_ hair, and he tugged lightly, bringing forth another lovely sound.

Then he pressed, guiding her head back to him, and she went eagerly, taking hold of him at the base, and wrapping her lips around him once more. “Try to move your hand in time with your mouth,” he whispered roughly, amazed that he could even link together a complete sentence.

She following his instruction immediately, pumping her hand up and down the portion that didn’t fit inside her mouth. He guided the pace of her head with his grip on her hair, but he was careful to keep it a suggestion, allowing her to control the actual movement, ready to release her the very second she pulled away.

“H…hollow you cheeks, sweetheart…suck in…” he knew his accent was deepening to the point of being unintelligible at this point, but she must have understood because she moaned loudly, the sound vibrating through him, and she sucked him, _hard_.

His climax came on suddenly and powerfully, with none of the warning he was used to. He tried to pull her head away, yanking forcefully on her hair, but she didn’t move in time, and he felt her cry out in surprise and swallow compulsively.

When she did pull back, there was cum on her chin and a surprised look on her face.

It took him several deep breaths to be able to react, his brain having been scrambled to smithereens from the most mind-blowing orgasm he’d ever experienced. When he _was_ able to form coherent thoughts, he was appalled.

“I am… _so_ sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to…to come in your… it was sudden and I tried to…”

Belle was licking her lips thoughtfully, and _God_ , that must have been horrible for her. He didn’t know why she wasn’t turning into the cooling spray to wash her mouth out.

“Belle?” he said weakly, feeling like he could cry. If he ever hurt, frightened, or disgusted her, he would never forgive himself.

She stood up on shaky legs, and he prepared for her to leave, but instead she lifted one foot up, propping it on the backrest of his chair and grasping his shoulders for balance. It was the same position he’d shown her in the shop, and there was a smug look of _demand_ on her face that he was not _about_ to deny. And fuck, if he hadn’t just been thoroughly spent, he’d be rock hard again.

He yanked her roughly by the hips and brought her core to his face. She was absolutely drenched, and he couldn’t believe that bringing _him_ off would do that to her. He wasted no time with gentle kisses or teasing, and went straight for her clit, suckling relentlessly. To his utter amazement, she was coming almost immediately, biting down on her lip to hold in a scream. He didn’t stop; he continued to lap and suck, and even bite ever so gently. He brought up a finger to plunge into her, but she stayed his hand, shaking her head slightly.

_Still too tender, then_.

Gratified beyond anything that she was letting him know what she did and didn’t want, he continued on with his mouth alone, bringing her to yet another shaking climax.

By the time they came back to themselves, the water was well and truly cold and Belle rushed to shut it off before handing Gold his cane and helping him to stand.

They dried themselves off and dressed, too cold and satiated for any more games at the present. Belle unsurprisingly produced his shirt that she favored from some hiding spot and donned it, grinning impishly at him.

When they at last fell into bed, it was with duel sighs of satisfaction, and he rolled over to pull her into his arms, wondering if it would ever become old hat to fall asleep with her, and suspecting it never would.

***

Belle had often daydreamed of what it would be like waking up with the man she loved (and most of the time, those dream men had one particular face,) and it was as pleasurable as she’d hoped.

When she awoke, she had her back molded to his front, and she thought he was awake too, because at least _one_ portion of his anatomy certainly was. When she craned her neck around to kiss him however, (their time spent nursing each other back to health had cured her of such worries as morning breath,) his face was still lax in sleep.

She gave a mental shrug, having read something about this somewhere. She took stock of herself, and though she was still a little achy, it wasn’t too bad, and one thing that outweighed her soreness was a very different sort of ache between her legs, and she realized that she had woken up in a very similar female-equivalent state that Adam had.

After a moment spent deciding how she would like to proceed, she tried to turn around in his arms, only to find herself pretty firmly anchored down. So instead, she ground her rear against him, feeling him twitch beneath the thin layer of his boxer shorts. She’d forgone underwear for the night, foolishly not thinking to bring an extra set of clothes, (it was her first _real_ sleepover at a boyfriend’s house, okay?) and her (his) shirt was rucked up around her waist.

He grew even harder with the way she rubbed against him, but he still didn’t wake up. Either that, or he was doing a bang-up job of faking, and she couldn’t fathom why he’d do _that_.

Huffing in indignation, she reached around behind her, and spread her hand flat against him, pressing and rubbing. This produced a sleepy moan, muffled into her hair, so she weaseled her hand into the slit in his shorts and took him in hand, fondling clumsily as best she could with the awkward position.

She could feel the exact moment he woke up, from the way his whole body went rigid for just a split second before relaxing as he let out a breath. “Minx,” he whispered, nudging her hair out of the way with his nose before nipping at her shoulder.

“Well, _someone_ woke me up with a jab in the back, so I thought you should be awake, too.”

“How can I be blamed when my very dreams are infused with the smell of your skin and the warmth of your body against mine?”

“That was very poetic.”

He growled low. “If you think _that_ was poetic…” he brushed her hand away, snaking a hand between her legs from behind, making her squeak from surprise, and when he found her wet and ready, he guided himself to her and eased in slowly.

The new position produced a very different feeling than before. It didn’t allow for his pelvis to press against her clit like it had, but it glanced that spot he’d discovered, just passingly, enough to make her body hum with feeling without being driven absolutely crazy by it.

He pumped almost lazily, easing all the way inside slowly before pulling back more quickly. Focusing her mind downward, she tried to use her muscles there to pull at him as he withdrew, and the result was him biting her neck harder and she smiled in victory.

As if in retaliation, he slid the hand pulling at her waist down to find her clit, rubbing and pinching it mercilessly.

“ _Too hard,”_ she gasped, touching his hand lightly.

He hummed in apology and softened his touch, and she buried her face into the pillow to muffle her cries. But he must have taken her meaning that it _all_ was too hard, because his thrusts became softer too, and that needed correcting.

She reached around, clawing and his hip and ass. “I didn’t mean _that_ ,” she ground out, undulated her hips to get him to go faster.

With a rough chuckle, he picked up his pace more and more, until she was almost on her stomach, helpless to do anything but lay there and try not to scream too loud, but she kept her hand at his hip, silently begging to go even harder, thrilling when he _did_.

She crashed over the edge like a wave on rocks, the feeling spreading from the tips of her toes to the very top of her head.

He slowed only momentarily, letting her savor her orgasm before redoubling his efforts. He pulled out suddenly, and she thought it was because he was spilling himself until he grunted harshly, and flipped her over with a strength that made her clench despite the very recent release. She opened her mouth to protest, remembering what had happened the last time he tried to take her this way, but all the came out was a whimper when he plunged back into her _hard_. She hooked her legs around his hips, trying to simply let him take what he needed so not to risk moving wrong and hurting him again.

He had one hand on the mattress, right beside where his missing knee would be, helping to stay balanced and give him leverage.

“That’s it,” she whispered, her nails digging into the skin of his back and ass as she spurred him on.

He made an anguished sound in response, so she wondered if maybe the sound of her voice was having a similar effect on him as his had on her when she’d gone down on him.

“Come on…” she whimpered out, unversed in dirty talk so not really knowing what to say. It had an effect, however, so she tried something else.

“ _Fuck me, Adam.”_

With a bitten back shout, he pulled out of her, and she felt the hot semen spurt onto her stomach.

He rolled off of her, groaning in both satisfaction and – she suspected – pain, if the way he rubbed his thigh was any indication. “You shouldn’t do that if it hurts,” she said softly, dragging a finger through the fluid on her belly. He eyed that action interestedly, but rolled to his other side to offer her a tissue from his night stand.

After cleaning up, he opened his arms for her, and she snuggled into him with a happy sigh.

“I’m fine,” he said in answer to her earlier question. “It didn’t hurt much like last time. It’s probably just like any body part, and needs to become accustomed to new activities. To be quite honest, I wasn’t thinking much of it at the time.”

“I could tell,” she said with a giggle.

He pulled back slightly, eyeing her with concern. “I wasn’t too rough with you, was I?”

Belle shook her head. “No I…I liked it. A lot.”

He grinned. “Well I rather liked your foul mouth. I’ve never heard you use such a word.”

“It seemed like the thing to say. Adam?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

She chewed her lip in thought. “Is it…um, would it not feel better…uh… _finishing_ while you’re still inside? It seems to me like if I were a man that would feel…anticlimactic.”

He chuckled. “I think that’s a poor choice of words, because I can assure you it’s not _anti_ climactic. Would it feel _even_ better? Well, yes, of course it would, but trust me, dear, I am not complaining. It feels… _you_ feel wonderful, and a quick second of increased pleasure is hardly worth the risk of you falling pregnant.”

“Oh, I’m not trying to insinuate that we should risk it. I’m not ready to become pregnant, trust me. I was just thinking that maybe we could look into something a bit more…accommodating.”

“Oh, well I’ve been meaning to get some condoms. It just felt sort of…presumptuous until last night. But I suppose that was just careless of me. If you’re worried at all, I can get some right away before we do anything else.”

“Wouldn’t be a bad idea,” she said. “But I was actually thinking more of something for me. I’ve read a lot of interesting literature on birth control pills. I could just take them daily and be unable to conceive while taking them. They’ve only recently been available to the public, but from what I understand, not many doctors will prescribe them to unmarried women.”

“How absurd,” Adam commented. “It seems to me they would be the _most_ beneficial to unmarried women. A married woman needn’t worry half so much about an unexpected pregnancy.”

Belle couldn’t help but smile. “You’ve a very modern outlook on things. I love it.”

He snorted. “First time I’ve ever been referred to as _modern_. I just don’t think restricting a woman’s access to contraception is going to make her be abstinent. It’s like teenage pregnancies don’t exist.”

“That’s part of what our group advocates, you know. Not just protesting war, but also fighting for rights. For women, children, minorities, homosexuals…” she trailed off, wondering how he’d respond.

“Hm,” he said thoughtfully. “I thought HEN was strictly anti-war. You would have had Jefferson at your rallies ages ago if you made more of a show of _that_.”

“Jefferson? What do you mean?”

Adam looked at her meaningfully. “I mean he can be…swayed…by either side…if you take my meaning. I do hope Ruby doesn’t mind, because he truly does like her. She only needs to understand that he…well, to put it frankly, he had a male lover or two in the Army. But that’s not to be spoken of, you understand.”

“Of _course_ not!” Belle promised. “I’d never. And you don’t have to worry about Ruby. She likes Jefferson too…and she’s the same way he is.”

“ _Is_ she? Well, that should make things simple, then shouldn’t it? And just how did you come by this information of Ruby then, hm?” he asked, teasingly.

She playfully slapped his bicep. “ _Very_ mature of you, cad! And if you _must_ know, there was an exploratory kiss…or two…when we were about fifteen. It simply stuck for her, and not for me.”

“Intriguing,” he said, ducking away when she made to slap him again.

Belle snuggled back against him, happy beyond measure that Adam was so opened-hearted. If she hadn’t already been in love with the man, that would have sealed it.


	9. Chapter 9

“Really?”

“That would be amazing!”

“Are you sure, Belle? We’re not exactly practiced…”

Belle laughed, pleased by the response when she asked the boys if they were willing to play for Emma’s fundraiser. Emma herself stood nearby, smirking at the grown men’s childlike reaction. She’d accepted whole-heartedly when Belle made the suggestion to her, stating that it was just the thing to really pull Storybrooke into the event, especially in the wake of the bad rep the last rally had incurred.

“You have two weeks to get ready,” Belle said. “And it’s just a couple of songs covers, it’s not like I’m asking you to write something new.”

Jefferson was leaning up against a fence where they were all gathered in the courtyard behind Granny’s diner, his arms crossed and one brow raised skeptically. “But we’re not exactly a well-rounded group, are we?” he looked meaningfully over at Adam, who’d been silently watching the exchange, hands folded over his cane.

“I think you mean you need a piano player,” Belle grinned slyly. “Well then, it’s a good thing I’ve already found you one!”

“Who?” David asked, he and Victor looking genuinely surprised, while Archie’s eyes widened knowingly.

Belle spoke to Jefferson, “Only the _best_ pianist you or I know.”

Finally, Jefferson got it, and he gasped. “You’re not serious. Gold?!”

“Pop?” Neal asked, shocked as well.

Adam rolled his eyes, but his expression lacked any sort of his old contempt. “She’s serious. I’m afraid my Belle is really quite persuasive when there’s something she wants.”

Belle was beaming, unused to hearing him speak so possessively of her in public, but Victor interrupted the moment in true-to-form fashion.

“You’d know, wouldn’t you, old dog?” he crooned, winking saucily and receiving an elbow in the gut from Archie.

Adam’s gaze snapped murderously to the doctor, but Belle’s hand on his arm calmed him down.

“You’ll really play with us?” Jefferson asked, not distracted in the least. “On a stage? In front of people?”

“You could _refrain_ from making it sound so ominous,” Adam snapped, eyes flashing in nervousness. “And _yes_ , I made a deal with Belle.”

“What _kind_ of de… _OOF!_ ” Victor’s innuendous reply was cut off by Archie quite literally shoving him away. The medical doctor disappeared, falling over a potted plant.

“What kind of deal?” Archie asked far more innocently.

Adam glanced once at where Victor was still laying dramatically on the ground before joining the others in ignoring his incredulous pleas for assistance. “I’ll play, _if_ Belle sings.”

“Marvelous!” Jefferson clapped his hands gleefully. “I say, this is getting better and better!”

“I still need help down here!”

“ _And…_ ” Adam continued, staring at Emma. “Belle had better get recognition for her part in the _success_ of this event.”

“Of course,” Emma said, with a roll of her own eyes. “I’m no idiot.”

“So no one is gonna help me then?!”

***

While Emma set off to make arrangements for the rally, Neal followed Belle and Gold back to the shop.

“This is fantastic, Papa!” Neal exclaimed once they were inside. “I can’t wait.”

“What about you?” Belle asked him. “Any hidden musical talent you’d like to add?”

Neal winced. “Eh, I’m afraid that particular gene skipped a generation. I can’t carry a tune in a bucket.”

“He’s not being modest,” Gold said, laughing. It was true, his son had no natural musical talent, but more than made up for it in sheer artistic talent, and in truth Gold was glad that he had his own skills and path in life, instead of merely taking after him.

 “I remember though,” Neal said, speaking straight to Gold, a faraway look in his eyes. “I had forgotten, but when I saw you playing the other night, it sorta came back to me. I remember when I was a really little kid, sitting on your knee while you played some song in a language I couldn’t understand, but you’d make these silly voices while you sang, and it’d make me laugh.”

Gold stared at his son, amazed. “You…you _remember_ that? You couldn’t have been older than three or four.”

“Yeah, but I remember. It couldn’t have been comfortable for you at the time, sitting at the piano, but you always played for me when I asked.”

Gold turned away, feeling the burn of tears in his eyes. He’d always thought that his son had completely forgotten those short years he’d been allowed to be the child’s father, before he’d been cruelly ripped away. That ache had been assuaged during the years he’d gotten to spend time with Neal as an adult, but never completely erased.

“What was it you used to play?” Neal asked.

Gold didn’t answer, just moved to sit on the piano bench. He glanced up at Belle, who was smiling lovingly at him from beside the counter.

He knew precisely what song Neal was talking about, and memories of his own flooded his senses – of his beloved aunts singing the same song to him as a boy, and of sharing it with Jefferson and the other men in camp.

When Neal perched beside him on the bench, Gold’s heart felt like it might explode, and he twisted around to find Belle, who moved over to better be seen by him, but keeping a respectable distance, letting father and son have a moment.

He began to play, singing the familiar words despite not having spoken the language in decades. He even threw in the silly voice that he’d done for Neal as a toddler. A high pitched, almost growling and utterly ridiculous voice that sounded like a flamboyant, pompous imp.

Neal and Belle both laughed wildly, especially when he raised one hand to twirl it delicately.

“What _was_ that?” Belle asked, almost bent over in mirth.

“Gaelic,” Gold said, grinning. “An old bawdy song my aunties sang to me. The voices I added myself, to make Neal laugh, and I see it still works.”

“Wait, _bawdy_?!” Neal asked, incredulous. “What do those words mean?!”

Gold’s eyes narrowed playfully. “I suppose you’re old enough, now. It a song about a king who tries to convince a woman to wed him, to the point of capturing her and taking her to his castle. But instead of being fearful, the woman says she’ll marry him willingly if…well…if he can _please_ her, since no man before had ever been able to. The rest of the song simply details the _many_ ways the king does just that. The chorus roughly translates to _bend her on over, lad, stick your dagger…_ ”

He was cut off by fresh waves of hilarity. “You sang that to a _toddler_?!” Belle shrieked, gasping for breath.

“It’s really quite educational, if you think about it,” Gold said, chuckling. “It did make Neal’s mother quite furious, but it wasn’t like Neal knew what I was saying, after all.”

Belle shook her head. “A dagger? Really? What a very _male_ thing to compare to…his…well...”

Gold blinked up at her. “But that’s not what it means. Surely you’ve heard the term about a tongue being sharp as a dagger?”

Belle’s face reddened before she and Neal were sent into another fit of laughter.

***

Belle had almost tried to sneak out the back once Neal had perched beside his father at the piano, recounting old memories of a too-brief childhood spent with the man. She felt like she should give them space and time alone, since most of Adam’s time of late had been spent with her. But she just hadn’t been able to pry herself away from the warm moment, especially once Adam began to sing in that hilarious, creature-like voice.

Their mirth was interrupted by Tom Clarke, the local Pharmacist, who appeared scared half to death of stepping fully into the shop, no matter that he could see Adam being relaxed and happy with his family.

Belle watched in fascination as Adam’s peaceful expression morphed into one of vague displeasure, and he excused himself to go speak with the stammering, sneezing man about his rent.

“Almost makes you think he should have been an actor, huh?” Neal said, making Belle jump slightly when his voice came from right next to her ear and she hadn’t noticed him stand. He was like his father in that way. “The way he can switch from one persona to another.”

Belle hummed thoughtfully. “Except, I believe that the way he is with us is no persona. _That’s_ the real Adam.”

“I definitely think he’s more him than he’s ever been, since you.”

Belle tore her eyes away from Adam. (Was it wrong to find his dark, intimidating _persona_ so attractive?) “What do you mean?” she asked.

Neal shrugged. “I just mean…I love the old man, have since I met him and he was falling over himself to try to make me feel at ease, and I could see just how desperately nervous he was. My adoptive father is great, you understand, he did a ton for me, but he was never very warm. Not affectionate, and always just seemed anxious for us to grow up. He was the same with his biological kids, so it never exactly bothered me. Adam was the exact opposite. The minute he could see that I didn’t mind a hug, it was like he couldn’t stop giving them. He tells me every single time I talk to him, in person, on the phone, or in a letter, that he loves me. Maybe he used to try and buy my love a little too much with too many gifts, but I could see it just came from a place of love, and making up for lost time.

“But what I meant before, was he’s always been so… _tense_. Every time we say goodbye, even if I’m just gonna walk over to Granny’s, he says it with such _emotion_ , like it’s the last time he’s ever gonna see me.”

“Can you blame him?” Belle said softly. “He missed so much of your life.”

“No, I can’t blame him, but that’s a sad way to live, isn’t it? Like always just waiting for an end.”

Belle smiled sadly. “How can you enjoy a story if you spend all your time worrying about the last chapter?”

“Exactly! And that’s how he’s always been…until now. Until _you._ Ever since I got here, for the first time since I’ve known him, he’s seems like he’s finally just happy to live life. I think that, this time, when I go back to Boston, saying goodbye to him isn’t going to be quite so hard. Because he has more to live for now than just me, or the hope of finding me. He has music again, and friends, and _you_.”

Belle had to look away from him then, feeling tears well in her eyes. Though she and Neal got along just fine, she hadn’t dared to hope that she’d receive such a heartfelt blessing from him, at least not so soon. And it meant the world.

“You both give me a lot of credit,” she said, her voice thick. “But all I did was admit feelings for him that I’ve had a long time.”

“You did a lot more than that, Belle,” Neal said, smirking. “You may never really see all you’ve done, but you definitely did.”

“Well, he’s done a lot for me, too. So I like to think it’s even.”

Adam and Mr. Clarke finished up their business and Adam made his way back over to them, his face growing concerned when he saw the tears glistening in Belle’s eyes. “What is it?” he shot a slightly accusing look at Neal.

“Nothing,” Belle said with a smile, shaking her head, before leaning up to press a quick kiss to his lips. “Everything is wonderful.”

She caught him sharing another quick look with Neal, but when he found nothing wrong on that end either, he gave a half shrug and wrapped his arms around her.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll admit, this one gets a little cheesy. I regret nothing.

The rally, now dubbed Arms of Love Concert, (named apparently because of the fact that it was benefiting the need for prosthesis, though even Belle thought it was cringingly cheesy,) was coming together smoothly and quickly.

Several of the members of Emma’s Boston coalition arrived in Storybrooke a week beforehand to finish up the arrangements and begin setup.

For Belle, it felt good to be able to help out with such a good cause, but not be in charge of every single aspect as she had before. Emma and her friends August and Lily shared the brunt of the responsibilities, and Belle admired their teamwork. Neal, Belle, and Ruby helped out in every way they could, and between them all it was coming together beautifully.

Despite all the extra hands, Belle was kept very busy, so she didn’t have much time at all to spend with Adam. He was so sweet and understanding about it, though, and she was determined to _reward_ him for it later.

But Adam was fairly busy as well, as he and the rest of the band had a lot of rehearsing to do in a short amount of time. It was going to be a short lineup of cover songs, and Belle had given them absolute free reign on what to pick, trusting Jefferson to convince Adam to perform at least a _couple_ of newer songs.

The only one she had any say on was the one she would be singing. Unsure about being on stage for the first time, Adam had kindly offered to make it a duet, and she agreed with exuberance. Though they’d picked the song together, and she’d been practicing alone at night before bed, (at her own house, alas,) they hadn’t actually had a chance to rehearse _together_ , which renewed her agitation.

As nervous as she was, Adam had seemed surprisingly calm. All the others, even Jefferson, were jittery, if excited, but Adam had displayed nothing but relaxed readiness. Belle wasn’t sure if it was a front or not.

By the morning of the rally, she _still_ hadn’t rehearsed with the band, but Adam assured her that they would do just fine together, and she trusted him completely, of course.

They were holding the concert right in the middle of Main Street. Mayor Mills had been vehemently against it at first, but something had suddenly changed her mind, and when Belle had casually mentioned it to Adam, the smug look on his face prompted her to demand to know how he’d done it. “Oh, she owed me a favor, is all,” he’d said smoothly. “Plus, I said please.”

Belle was helping Lilly hang up a sign displaying the name of the newly formed band. _Company B_ had been Jefferson’s choice, after his favorite song.

“Belle!” Ruby called from the patio of Granny’s, where they were preparing to close early for the rally. “Jeff called! He asked if you could go to the shop!”

Worried that Adam was having a sudden change of mind, Belle rushed to the shop. All the guys were there, already dressed for the stage.

“Why are you ready so soon?” she asked. “The concert doesn’t start till this evening.”

“Dress rehearsal, you might say,” Archie said. Belle raised her eyebrows in appreciation at the meek, unassuming man who usually wore huge cable knit sweaters, now dressed to the nines in a sleek black suit.

All of the men were wearing the same – or at least very similar – black, slim-fitting pants and blazer, with pristine white shirts and a thin black tie. They all looked outrageously attractive, but David, who was already a traditionally handsome man in his khakis and flannel was really something else. Belle wondered how Mary Margaret was going to feel about the girls who were doubtlessly going to drool over the guitarist. And Jefferson, with his black hair to match, well, Belle thought Ruby might have an aneurism.

Victor looked like he _knew_ how good he looked.

“You all look outta _sight_!” Belle enthused. “But where’s Adam?” She was more than ready to see _her_ handsome man.

“Hiding,” Jefferson said exasperatedly. “He won’t come out. Doesn’t like his outfit.”

Belle’s face scrunched up in confusion. “Doesn’t like…it’s a _suit_. It’s not that different at all than what he normally wears, just perhaps a little tighter, but he could certainly pull _that_ off.”

“We know!” Jefferson said, flapping his arms as if he was hoping to take flight. “But the digs we got him aren’t… _exactly_ like ours.”

“That’s _one_ way of putting it,” Adam growled from behind the curtain leading the back of his shop.

“Adam?” Belle called, chuckling. “Are you going to come out or are we supposed to pay no mind to the man behind the curtain?”

“I am _not_ coming out. Not until I’m provided a better outfit, or Jefferson fucking returns _my clothes_!”

Belle glanced at the pile of clothing sitting on the counter, but it was swiped away by Victor before she could grab it. “He’s being stubborn,” Victor said, defensively clutching the clothes against him when Belle rolled her eyes and held her hands out for them. “And besides, there’s no time to get another suit.”

“Then I’ll wear one of _mine_ ,” Adam roared, and Belle could tell his patience was absolutely worn thin.

“Adam,” Belle said. “Despite what these loons say, no one is going to make you wear something you don’t want to,” she returned the glare she received from Jefferson and Victor. “But can I see it? Please?”

She could hear him heave a great sigh, and almost imagined that the curtain moved with it. When he emerged, she didn’t see at first any difference between what he was wearing and what the others were, except his tie was a deep gold instead of black. But then he came fully around the counter and Belle definitely saw the difference.

Adam’s pants and jacket were _leather_.

Not a cheap, shiny faux leather like what Killian wore. This was clearly fine, genuine leather that barely made a sound when he walked.

Belle’s mouth dropped open, eyes instantly fastening on his pants. They clung to him in the most devastating way, leaving blessedly little to the imagination, and looked buttery soft to the touch. (And _God_ did she want to touch!) The jacket, too, fit his form perfectly, emphasizing his arms and shoulders to their best advantage.

Belle shook her head, mouth still agape. “No, absolutely not.”

Adam looked half victorious, half embarrassed, but the look morphed into complete shock when she continued.

“Once women see you in _that_ , I’ll be beating them off with a stick.”

“Wha?” Adam said, blinking owlishly while the other men laughed.

“I _told_ you!” Jefferson said. “I’ve _always_ said you were made for leather!”

“Man to man,” David said, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “You really do look good.”

“I hate you,” Victor said.

Adam flushed. “It’s too tight! You can tell which leg is fake!”

Archie tilted his head to look. “Only if you know what to look for. No one else would ever notice, and certainly not in the dark.”

“I’m still not wearing it.”

Belle walked up to him, resting her hands on his shoulders, (it _was_ buttery soft!) and spoke quietly to him, making sure her feeling showed through her voice. “I maintain what I said. If you’re uncomfortable, then change. But just know that I will have every intention of making you put those pants on again soon, even if it’s only to peel them off of you.”

“We can _hear_ you,” Victor said, grimacing.

“You _really_ like it?” Adam asked, bewildered.

Belle released him to step around him, nearly whimpering aloud when she saw what it did to his ass. She dared a discreet pinch in passing, making him jump. “ _Like_ doesn’t quite cover it, my love.”

“And besides,” Jefferson whined. “I had it made ‘specially for you!” he continued in a whisper, “ _And it wasn’t cheap either._ ”

Adam threw his hands up, cane and all, in surrender. “ _Fine_! I’ll wear it,” he glared at them all for cheering. “But I still don’t see why I should be dressed differently than the rest of you. The lead _guitarist_ is typically the frontrunner, if one should be attired specially.”

“But _you’re_ the lead singer,” Jefferson reasoned. “And besides, you’ll be at the keys most of the time.”

Adam looked at Belle, hooking an arm around her waist. “Should I slick back my hair?”

Belle shook her head emphatically. “No way, leave it!” she emphasized her point by mussing it up, letting strands fall into his face.

“And what will you be wearing?” he asked.

Belle bit her lip thoughtfully. “Well, I hadn’t settled on anything yet, but I think I have just the thing to go with that tie.”

 

 

The dress Belle had decided on the moment she laid eyes on the color of Adam’s tie was one she hadn’t considered before due to it being a tad more formal and traditional than she would normally wear to a rally.

It had been her mother’s; a gift from her father on her thirtieth birthday when he’d taken her out dancing just like she loved. Belle had been ten years old and positive she’d never seen anything as beautiful or glamorous as her mother that night. Just like a real-life movie star.

Belle rushed home and begged her father to help her pull it out of storage. “I hope it’s still in good condition,” she said anxiously.

“Oh I’m sure it is,” Maurice said, pulling a long box down from the attic. “Your mother was meticulous in how she stored things.”

She couldn’t even wait to carry it to her room, plopping down on the floor and flipping off the lid. “It’s just as beautiful as I remember!” she said dreamily.

Maurice’s eyes sparkled jovially. “Well? Are you gonna sit there or go try it on?”

Belle squealed and darted to her room with the dress. She held her breath as she pulled it on and dragged up the small zipper. She was shorter than her mother had been, and a little curvier, so she hoped it would fit.

She stood before her full-length mirror, turning from one side to the other.

The dress was a gold lamè; slightly metallic in appearance without being garish. It was made to fit like a second skin from the bust to the hips, where it fell gently down to the knees – or past them, in Belle’s case. But the fit was perfect. A knot tied in the front, gathering the fabric at the hips, emphasized her hips well. Beading, in a darker gold, decorated the top of the bust in a leafy pattern, dipping down to a point between her breasts. The dainty cap sleeves added a hint of sweetness to the otherwise sultry form.

Belle removed the dress giddily, and ran about to do her hair and get ready. She decided to curl her hair in a forties style more befitting the dress. Besides, she’d worked out that Adam liked her hair curled and even though she would be wearing this dress on stage in front of hundreds of people, she was really wearing it for _him_ tonight.

It was 4pm when she was finished getting ready, adding a _final_ touch to her makeup, and the concert started at 6. But she was going to need to get there soon as she could already hear a crowd starting to form.

“Belle!” her father called up. “Ruby’s here!”

When Belle descended the stairs, both Ruby and Maurice gasped.

“Oh my _God_ , Belle!” Ruby exclaimed.

Belle grinned up at her Papa, who, to her surprise, was actually tearing up a little. “You looked just like your mother walking down those stairs,” he said with an adoring smile. “Just when did this stunning woman replace my little girl?”

“I’m still your little girl,” Belle said and kissed his cheek. “You’re coming to the concert, right?”

“I wouldn’t miss it. Now go on, you two. Break some necks.”

“ _Papa!_ ” Belle admonished laughingly.

“What? I bought that dress for your Mama. I know good and well what it does to men. Just try not to give poor Gold a heart attack.”

Belle rolled her eyes playfully before donning a long overcoat and sashaying out the door.

“He was right, though,” Ruby said once they were outside. “You are sex _incarnate_ in that thing! Gold’s not gonna know what hit him!”

“I could say the same about you,” Belle said, eyeing Ruby’s red, midriff and cleavage baring front-tying top above matching bellbottoms. “Plus, you just wait until you see the guys.”

 

***

Gold watched Emma in admiration as she made her opening speech on stage. Oh, it was still just a bunch of flowery platitudes about bringing change, but she delivered them with such a vibrant conviction. Her long blonde hair billowed around her face, the lighting making it look like a halo, but with her impassioned expression she was more of an avenging angel. He glanced over at Neal, intending to offer up an approving nod but his son was entirely captivated, his eyes glossed over and completely unmoving from the avenging angel’s form.

He chuckled to himself, knowing well the feeling, having felt it every single time Belle spoke to him, or sang.

“She’s really something,” he had to lean close to Neal’s ear to be heard.

“She sure is…” Neal said dazedly, but then he snapped out of it somewhat to look at his father. “Do you like her?”

Gold’s heart almost broke at the childlike, hopeful look in his son’s eyes. He had never realized until that very moment how important his opinion was to his son, this precious boy he’d only been allowed to have in his life for a grand total of eight years out of twenty.

“You love her,” Gold said. It wasn’t a question.

“You didn’t answer,” Neal said impatiently.

Gold smiled, clapping a hand on the taller man’s shoulder. “I like her very much, Neal. I can’t imagine anyone more suited for one another than you two.” And it was true; Neal’s quiet, sweet nature was perfectly balanced by Emma’s outgoing, if brash personality.

Neal’s shoulders slumped in relief. “Oh, I dunno, I can think of a pair,” he said teasingly.

“Oh? Who? David and Mary Margaret?”

Neal rolled his eyes. “You and Belle, dummy. She brings out the best in you, and according to Emma, the reverse is true, too.”

Gold blinked, having a very hard time believing that Belle’s _best_ was ever hidden, ever, and that _he_ of all people would bring it out. “Well, that first part I can admit is true,” he said gruffly. “You like her, then?” he knew full well that Neal _did_ like Belle, but he also knew his son would be able to read between the lines of the question.

 “It’ll never not be weird to have a stepmama five years older than me, but yeah, Pop. I like her.”

Gold floundered for a proper response to “ _stepmama,”_ and Neal just laughed when he could only huff in embarrassment.

Emma wrapped up her speech, allowing another young person to take the stand so-to-speak. People cheered and waved signs and flowers in the air, and Gold shook his head in bemusement.

“Gold!”

He spun around to find Jefferson making his way over to him. “You’re not dressed!” he complained.

Indeed, Gold was dressed in one of his usual suits. He may have agreed (and WHAT had possessed him?!) to wear the infernal leather getup, but he wasn’t about to waltz around in it before he had to.

“I’m going, I’m going,” he sighed, fending off Jefferson’s flapping hands in irritation. He looked up at the stage where some of Emma’s minions were now setting up the instruments and microphones to his specifications, and nerves fluttered in his stomach.

He’d never experienced stage-fright when performing with Jefferson in the Army, or even before the war when he’d played guitar and piano in a couple of smoky, filthy bars that had no qualms about letting a 16 year old boy come and play and drink.

And, truth be told, he wasn’t exactly _afraid_ this time either. He didn’t care what the people of Storybrooke thought of him, so long as they didn’t think he was weak. Initially, he’d been disgruntled that everyone would see him for something other than the ruthless deal-maker he’d tried so hard to make himself up to be. But this was for _Belle_ , and if he was afraid of _anything_ , it was of disappointing or maybe worse, embarrassing her.

“Do you know where Belle is?” he asked, careful to keep the edge from his voice.

Jefferson only smirked knowingly, however. “Don’t you fret. If nothing else, you’ll see her right beside you on stage.”

Gold rolled his eyes and turned to make his way back to his shop, wishing he could instead go find Belle _now_.

Once inside the shop, he grimaced at the mess the others had made in their efforts to get ready, and closed the blinds before heading for the back. He had just finished removing his suit and was giving the leather pants a rueful look when he heard the bell above his door ring, cursing that he’d forgotten to lock it.

“Adam? Are you in here?”

Gold sighed in relief, and felt all of his nerves settle instantly. It still astounded him how just her voice could do that to him.

“I’m back here, Belle,” he called, adding hastily in case Ruby or someone was with her, “I’m changing.”

“But I like you the way you are!” she teased.

“Hilarious,” he deadpanned. “A regular Joan Davis, you are.”

Belle giggled. “Who?”

“Oh hush, you. Are you coming back or not?”

“Am I allowed? I’d hate to catch you when you’re indecent!”

He hoped he was right and that by the tone of her voice, she was alone. Otherwise, he was about to make her and whoever was with her _really_ blush. “And having me buried to the hilt inside of you wasn’t indecent?”

He could just barely make out a small hiccupping sound, but no response. A moment later the curtain was pushed aside and she was standing in the doorway, smirking but definitely red around the cheeks. “You win,” she said, crossing her arms.

But it was his turn to be left speechless, although that was common when he ever saw her for the first time after even mere hours of separation.

Her hair done in wide, soft curls that waved seductively around her face, a style he hadn’t seen much of since his twenties. Her eyes were lined in dark kohl, and her lips were painted in a vibrant red. He firmly believed that she didn’t need an ounce of makeup, and she rarely wore much, if at all, but the differentness and the way it brought attention to her full lips and made her already incredible blue eyes stand out even more left him feeling completely stunned.

It was the flower that did it, though. A small, shimmery gold flower was painted on her right cheek, and judging by her smirk when he eyed it, he knew it was there just for him. How she had guessed his odd love for her flowers, he didn’t know.

“You look…uh…” he couldn’t even find the damn _word_. He was an intelligent, well-read man but he couldn’t sift through his credible vocabulary for one that accurately described how she looked to him.

“Thank you,” she said sweetly, taking his silence as the compliment it was. “You look rather nice as well.”

It was only then that he remembered that he was still standing there in nothing but a pair of black briefs. He flushed hotly, but laughed at himself, and reached for the accursed pants. “Are you going to show me what’s under that coat?” he asked as he sat down in a chair to maneuver the unwieldy things over his wooden leg.

“Not yet,” she said simply, pushing herself up to sit on the work table. The movement allowed him to catch a flash of gold, however, and he gulped. She _had_ said, after all, that she had something to match him.

He stood up, almost unbalancing, and struggled to pull the pants up. “I hope you’re enjoying the show,” he grumbled good-naturedly.

But she was biting her lip, eyeing him with wide pupils. For heaven’s sake, was she becoming _aroused_ by this undignified production?!

He thought about asking her to help him, but they simply didn’t have time for shenanigans right then, and the last thing he needed was _another_ wooden appendage to take onstage.

But she was sitting there, her legs uncrossed, looking so inviting, that he gave in and stepped between her knees so that she could do up the buttons of his shirt.

“This is the opposite of what I’d _like_ to be doing right now,” she murmured, her low voice going straight to his groin.

He smiled in fond surprise when she took his tie from him, looping it around her own neck to do up the knot expertly. “Always did it for Papa,” she explained quietly.

Once she had the tie around his neck, and the knot meticulously straightened, she patted his chest with both hands. “Perfect.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly, unable to keep from imagining this exact scenario every morning for the rest of his life.

His hands wandered to the belt of her coat, wanting to see her without the heavy thing dwarfing her beautiful form.

“Not yet,” she said, pulling away and lightly smacking his hand. When he whined in protest, she smirked impishly and started slowly hiking up both coat and dress, uncovering her thighs to his eager view. “But how about a little preview to tide you over?”

He licked his lips, eyes unwavering as his own hands smoothed up her stockinged legs to help her. His breath hitched when, at the top of her thighs, he felt a band of soft lace and the clasp of garters. When the clothing was at last moved out of the way, he could see that her garter belt was a dainty, tantalizing thing colored a soft ivory. Something made to seduce, not like a regular utilitarian one.

“My dear,” he said gruffly, fingering the delicate lace. “As…as absolutely lovely as this is, I’m afraid I’m coming into a rather precarious situation involving _very_ tight pants.”

Belle let out a breathy chuckle and quickly smoothed down her dress and coat. “Sorry,” she said, with absolutely no remorse.

Both Gold and Belle nearly jumped out of their skin when the curtain to the backroom flew back, a flash of red being all he could make out until the blood rushed back to his brain and he could see Ruby standing in the doorway. He hadn’t even heard the bell ring.

“Oh, damn, am I interrupting something?” she said, grinning.

“Well, at least that took care of _that_ problem,” Gold muttered, backing away from Belle.

“Jeff’s looking for you,” Ruby said. “He said to get your ass…” she trailed off, and Gold turned back around from where he’d been donning his jacket to see what was the matter. Her eyes were wide, and fastened to his legs. He froze, feeling embarrassed and uncomfortable. Did she think he looked ridiculous? Not that he cared what she thought…oh, who was he kidding? She was Belle’s best friend, and if he was going to be honest with himself, the last thing he wanted was to be laughed at by a woman.

“Holy shit,” Ruby said, her eyebrows reaching her hairline. “Belle, you weren’t even exaggerating.”

Gold shot a glare over at Belle. “What does she mean?”

Belle just shrugged innocently. “I only told her about how good you look in leather, that’s all. It would seem she agrees with me.”

Gold pulled a face. “Seriously?”

Ruby threw back her head and barked out a laugh, turning to leave and saying over her shoulder, “just be glad Belle got to you when you were still lurking in your shop in old fashioned suits, cause if you’d looked like _that_ all along, you’d be getting more action than Ringo,” she continued to call out as she exited the shop, “and I’m counting myself, just for the record!”

Once she was gone, Gold stared in horror at the spot where she had been standing before slowly looking at Belle again.

“I hope you’re not getting ideas,” she said, teasing, but with perhaps a bit of sincerity.

“My idea is pleading with you for _help_ ,” he said, making her laugh.

“I’m afraid the time has come for the rest of Storybrooke to fall in love with you,” she sighed, hopping down from the counter, and he made a show of rolling his eyes. “You ready?” she asked him.

“As long as you’re with me,” he said, crooking his arm for her to take. “Then I’m ready for anything.”

 

Belle led Adam through alleyways to get to the stage without having to weave through the crowd. Jefferson and all the rest where already there.

“Bout _time_ ,” Jefferson snapped. “You two can have celebratory sex _later_!”

“Jefferson!” Gold growled.

“Wow, Pop,” Neal said. “You look…uh…different,” he looked at Emma, who averted her eyes awkwardly.

“Can we just get on with it?” Gold growled, wishing very much to not be the center of attention anymore.

“You’re up, Belle,” Emma said nodding at her.

Gold hadn’t known that it’d be Belle who would announce him, but he was pleased. She finally shrugged off that coat of hers, and handed it to Ruby. But Gold was struck absolutely dumb by the sight of her.

The shimmering gold fabric hugged her body from behind like it wasn’t even there, like she was just standing there, naked, her body dripping in liquefied gold. When she turned, his eyes caught the glittering beading decorating the tops of her breasts. She looked like some kind of siren, or someone who belonged on a Hollywood red carpet, and not backwater Maine.

“You like it?” she asked shyly, and it was amazing how anyone _that_ beautiful could ever feel shy about her looks. “It was my mother’s.”

Gold could barely imagine the stately, conservative Collette dressed so, and believed strongly that the mother’s willowy frame did not do the dress justice the way Belle’s graceful, womanly shape did.

“It’s extraordinary, Belle. And I think Collette would have been very proud of you tonight, sweetheart,” he said, and not talking about the dress.

Belle beamed, and spun on her heels to make her way on stage.

He listened with half an ear while Belle described how ticket sales of the evening were being put to good use, but as much as he liked to listen to her talk, it was time for him to mentally prepare for playing music for an audience for the first time in twenty years.

He supposed he hadn’t let himself think too much about it in the days leading up to this event. He knew if he _did_ think about it, he’d _overthink_ it. Well, all that time spent putting it out of his mind was catching up to him.

“I can’t do this,” he mumbled, not really meaning for anyone to hear.

But Jefferson, as usual, heard anyway. “Yeah, you can.”

“It’s easy for you to say, you and the others at least have a certain stage presence. You’re all young, nice looking…”

Jefferson laughed. “You seriously haven’t gotten a clue about yourself, huh? And what are you even saying? You’re barely a couple of years older than me.”

“But I _look_ old, you don’t.”

“What does looks have to do with anything, anyway?”

Gold shook his head. “Nothing. I just…”

Jefferson laid a hand on his shoulder. “You’re gonna do great. We all are. If it gets to be too much, just look at Belle. If you can’t see Belle, close your eyes and pretend we’re in that pub in Dublin, just you, me, and a handful of drunk women and even drunker cadets.”

Gold chuckled. “Thank you, Jefferson.”

Jefferson tried to wave him off, but he continued. Feeling like if he didn’t say this now while the noise of the crowd all but drowned him out, he never would. “No, I mean, thank you for everything. For showing up at my house unannounced all those years, and ignoring me when I tried to kick you out. For helping me when I was searching for Neal, even when I didn’t ask for your help. For never turning away from me, even though you probably should have.”

Jefferson grinned, and gave Gold’s shoulder a squeeze. “What’s a best friend for? Now come on, old man, this mushy stuff is getting too much. Who knew you were such a sap?”

Gold shoved ineffectively at the larger man, and barely caught the end of Belle announcing their names.

 

“…because if we want a change for our children, we need to start with the people who are here _now_ ,” Belle paused for effect. “And now, for our special surprise musical performance, we have a few faces here that the Storybrooke locals will recognize! All five of these men served in the US military during World War II, all barely out of high school when they either enlisted or were drafted. Some were injured, and all of their lives were altered forever. When we hold up signs that say, _Bring Our Boys Home_ , I just hope we all remember that coming home is just half the battle for some of those boys, and we must continue to support them! And now, without further ado, may I present…Company B!”

Belle exited the stage as the group went on, shooting Adam a quick thumbs-up as they passed by one another.

“Hello, Storybrooke!” Jefferson exclaimed into the mike to an uproarious applause. He reached behind his back, and like some sort of magic trick, produced one of his infamous top hats, rolling it over his arm before flicking it on to his head with a dramatic flourish. “For those of you who _don’t_ already know us; my name is Jefferson, and over on electric guitar is David, that’s Victor on drums, Archie on bass, and last but _certainly_ not least…on the keys and lead vocals, Adam, a.k.a. Mr. Gold!”

Belle just _had_ to peak around the stairs, first up at Adam who was glaring daggers at the back of Jefferson’s head, and then at the audience who was absolutely buzzing. It was easy to spot from a distance who was local and who was not. The non-locals merely looked excited and the women were whispering and pointing out the ones they thought were cutest. The locals were having a fit of utter and wild shock the moment the name _Mr. Gold_ left Jeff’s mouth. She wasn’t at all sure if anyone would have recognized him up there if Jefferson had only called him Adam.

Adam quietly counted down, and they launched right into their first number, a bluesy cover of The Wanderer. This would be the only one led by David, Victor, and Archie. Jefferson had told her in an aside that it was to sort of ease the public into the idea of Adam as a “rock star,” (his words.)

“They’re loving it!” Ruby exclaimed, bouncing up at down. “Killian’s crap band had _nothing_ on these guys!”

Where _The Killings_ had accrued a modicum of enthusiasm from the crowd that night, it had been mostly due to the fact that the entire audience was either drunk, stoned, or both.

There was no doubt that any number of the concert goers currently in attendance were probably under the influence, but David had called in reinforcements from Augusta PD to act as security, and their intimidating and comforting presence was everywhere.

The reaction to _Company B_ was something entirely different, and when they merged straight from The Wanderer into a fast-paced, more rock-n-roll version of an old Glenn Miller number; Moonlight Cocktail, Belle had to just laugh at loud at the change.

Adam leaned forward toward his microphone, his usual croon taking on a slighter rougher edge. She didn’t know if it was intentional or not, but it was sexy as hell.

_“Couple of jiggers of moonlight, and add a star, pour in the blue of a June night and one guitar. Mix in a couple of dreamers, and there you are: lovers hail the Moonlight Cocktail..”_

From the first word Belle heard an actual scream from somewhere in the crowd. Jaws were practically on the ground.

“This is absolutely gonna _ruin_ his reputation,” Neal said cheerfully.

Belle watched as Adam’s confidence slowly grew, and he was pulled further into the music. No one else was there for him. His eyes were closed and it was just him, the piano, and his own voice.

There were people who could sing and play music and sound very good. There were simply people who wholly loved music. And then there was someone like Adam, who held the music in their soul until it had no choice but to come bursting out. And he’d been holding it in for far too long.

It was the most beautiful thing Belle had ever seen.

As the song was coming to a close, something caught Belle’s attention from the corner of her eye.

There was someone mounting the steps on the other side of the stage. From the way the lights were angled Belle couldn’t tell who it was until he was already on stage.

“Who the hell is that?!” Emma demanded.

“Oh no,” Belle gasped.

David reached out to stop Killian, but his guitar got in the way and Killian snaked around him, snatching his mic on the way.

“The fuck kind of faggot music _is_ this?!” he slurred. “Who ‘ere wants some _real_ music?!”

He pumped his fist, apparently expecting a cheer, but only response he got was some nervous laughing and one guy somewhere yelling, “Get off the stage, moron!”

Belle and Emma were mounting the steps to the stage the same time a couple of officers were from the other side, but they were both halted by a look from Adam.

The two officers snatched the mic from Killian and grabbed his arms while he flailed uselessly against them. “Hey! The fuck, man?!”

“Time for you to go, Mr. Jones,” Adam said, having stood from the piano and approached him, his voice low and dangerous. “You know, I’m rather glad for this pathetic show of yours. This way, you can be escorted straight to a cell and bother no one for the rest of the night.”

“Piss off, you fucking old…crocodile!” Killian said. “I’ll be out tomorrow, and you better watch your back!”

Adam rolled his eyes, standing with both hands on his cane. “What are you going to do? Throw more cheap firecrackers into my shop like a pre-adolescent boy? Not your best work, Dearie.”

“Oh yeah?! It had you pissing yourself like a useless pansy! Or maybe next time I should bring out the big guns! Just gotta make sure that whore of yours is there too!”

“Like you did last time?”

Killian huffed a laugh. “Last time I was just lucky that she was there to see what a coward you are!”

Adam’s eyes calmly darted up to David’s. “Will that do it?”

David shook his head in amusement. “That’ll do it. You all heard that as a confession, right?” he addressed the audience, who all cheered. “Not to mention a threat.”

Killian blanched, looking out at the crowd and then down at the mic that David was holding out toward him. “Wha…no! Wait!”

But he was dragged off the stage by then, and the crowd was going wild.

“You think it’ll matter that he’s probably drunk?” Ruby asked Belle.

“It shouldn’t.”

They spun around to see Gaston, standing with his arms crossed. “He wasn’t _that_ drunk, I was with him while he was drinking. And if asked, I’m prepared to say he was sober as a nun.”

“Really?” Belle asked. “Why? He’s your friend.”

“He’s an ass,” Gaston said. “And maybe I am, too, but what he did to you, and to Gold…well…that was shit. And I’m sorry. Though I swear, I had nothing to do with the firecrackers. That was all Killian and Smith.”

“Then will you file a report?” Emma asked him. “Against them both?”

Gaston nodded. “Yeah. I’m sick of being their muscle.”

Belle smiled up at him, happy to know he wasn’t _all_ bad.

But right then she had more important things to do, and she rushed up on stage as they were righting the mic stand and getting back into position. Adam was still standing, grinning proudly at her, and she didn’t hesitate to throw herself into his arms and kiss him hard, mindless of the hundreds of eyes upon them.

“And on _that_ note…” Jefferson enthused, “Ladies and gents, Miss Belle French!”

“You ready?” Adam asked her quietly, facing away from the crowd.

Belle grinned up at him. “As long as you’re with me, I’m ready for anything.”

She had planned on either standing or sitting beside him on the bench, but Adam surprised her by pushing her up against the back of the piano, setting his cane aside, and hoisting her up. Quite a feat, since it was rather high. The crowd hooted and whistled when Adam lingered, pressed against her, his nose inches from hers.

He left her regretfully and took his seat, running a scale before beginning the song she knew well. They still never managed to rehearse, but Belle found it as easy as breathing to sing with him. Her eyes never left his, both because they didn’t _want_ to, but also to pick out subtle cues from him.

_“I don’t like you, but I love you.”_

_“Seems that I’m always, thinking of you.”_

_“Though, you treat me badly, I love you madly, you really got a hold on me.”_

Though the lyrics didn’t quite fit their relationship, (as if he would ever treat her badly!) it was simply one they both had agreed they liked.

Belle sang straight through, and Adam came in and out as he occasionally had to focus on his playing, but also, she suspected, to just let her go at it alone. She swayed from her perch on the piano, feeling like a starlet from an old Hollywood film.

_“I don’t want you, but I need you. Don’t want to kiss you, but I need to. Though, you do me wrong now, my love is strong now. You really got a hold on me,”_

_“You really got a hold on me…”_

Adam was giving her a look from beneath his lashes, and _God_ if she didn’t want to just slide down into his lap and have him right there, spectators be damned. How could he really not know how _sexy_ he was?!

_“Baby, I love you and all I want you to do is just…_

_Hold me,_

_Hold me,_

_Hold me…tighter…”_

They finished the song, still looking at nothing but one another, and Belle was pleasantly surprised when he stood up and leaned over the keys to kiss her thoroughly.

“Okay you two, get a room!” Jefferson said into the mic, eliciting a riotous response. “You ready Adam?”

A look passed between Jefferson and Adam that Belle couldn’t decipher. When he turned back to her again, it was with such a boyish smirk that Belle had never seen on him. It took _years_ off of him. “Stay there?” he asked, and she was helpless at that point but to grant his request.

To her confusion, he didn’t resume his spot at the keys, and instead went to stand beside David, who was holding up a second electric guitar. Adam had mentioned, briefly, that he knew how to play several instruments, but that piano was just the one he loved. She’d had no clue that he had been planning this, but all the other guys had a look of excited expectation that she wondered if perhaps this possibility had been up in the air.

She watched he took position in the center of the stage before handing Jefferson his cane, who in turn handed it to her. She couldn’t help worrying about his balance, but though he leaned all of his weight on his good leg, he appeared confident.

“And now,” Adam said into the mic. “A crap rendition of one of your favorites. Two…three…four…

“ _Well she was just seventeen, and you know, what I mean, and the way she looked was way beyond compare…_ ”

The audience finally lost it at that point, and Belle could almost believe that the actual Beatles had somehow snuck up behind them. They didn’t try to outright mimic the hugely popular group, however, still maintaining their own bluesy vibe, but Belle could barely recognize the…well… _rock star_ that had taken over her boyfriend.

_“So, how could I dance with another, oh, when I saw her standing there?”_

Adam half turned to catch her gaze, singing directly at her. _“Well she looked at me, and I, I could see, that before too long, I’d fall in love with her…”_

Belle blew a kiss at him.

_“She wouldn’t dance with another, oh…when I saw her standing there.”_

Jefferson lowered his horn and hopped over to share Adam’s mic. It didn’t look rehearsed, but Adam only grinned and moved aside to let him.

_“Well my heart went boom, when I crossed that room, and I held her hand in mine…”_

Jefferson glanced off stage himself, and Belle followed his look to where Ruby was standing. Belle waved her over, and although she was turning as red as her outfit, Ruby skipped out on stage to stand beside her as the giggled and sang along.

_“Oh we danced, through the night, and we held each other tight, and before too long, I fell in love with her._

_“Now I’ll never dance with another, when I saw her standing there.”_

 

 _Company B_ was called out for two encores before the night was over. Though he kept trying to tell himself that his ears were playing tricks on him, Gold could actually hear people in the crowd specifically chanting, “ _Adam! Adam!”_

When they finally exited the stage for a final time to allow the rest of the evening to carry on, they were flocked by excited young people, all strangers that Gold could tell. Each man seemed to have his own little group of moon-eyed girls, and while Victor looked thrilled, and Archie looked bashfully flattered, he, David, and Jefferson all grouped together to try and escape.

“Will you sign my program?” A girl (too young to be there, in his opinion,) asked him, holding up one of the pamphlets being passed around that detailed the lineup of the event.

Gold looked at Jefferson, unsure of how to respond. Why would a child want his autograph? Did they make a mistake and think the band was actually famous? But Jefferson jerked his head and motioned for him to do it, so he awkwardly took the girl’s program and signed his name the same way he did countless lease agreements.

The girl squealed her thanks before moving on to Jefferson, asking the same, and that started a trend of everyone holding up pamphlets and flyers and whatever else they had in their hands from wallets to T-shirts to be signed.

Gold shook his head, murmuring to Jefferson, “They can’t honestly believe anything signed by us would be worth anything one day.”

Jefferson rolled his eyes at him, a clear imitation of him. “Not everything is about money, old man. They simply want to have something to remember a fun night. Just sign your damn John Handcock and enjoy your fifteen minutes of fame, will you?”

Gold shrugged and reached for the nearest flyer, managing a smile for the surprisingly earnest looking young man. He scanned the crowd for Belle, finding her just a few feet behind him, and was gratified to see that they were asking her to add her signature as well. He didn’t like how most of the people surrounding her were young men, but he refused to begrudge her the well-deserved attention. Especially since she looked like she was having so much fun. She looked up and gave him a heated look, and his disquiet settled immediately. Let the randy boys lust after her, as it was _his_ bed she would be returning to that night.

When he took a flyer from a young Storybrooke resident, he blinked in surprise. He recognized him as William Gus, or “Billy,” the son of one of his tenants. Gold had never had much contact with him outside of the boy helping his father at the auto repair shop her frequented.

“Wow, Mr. Gold,” he said. “You’re far out!”

“Um, thank you?” Gold replied, feeling odd about giving a teenager an autograph when in years prior, he and his friends would dare one another to run into his backyard to show how “brave” they were.

“I’d give anything to play piano like that,” he continued, his face sincere. “I’ve tried learning on my own but…you think maybe sometime you could give me some pointers?”

Gold’s eyebrows raised, and he ignored the nudge from Jefferson. “Um…we can see if we can work something out. Come by my shop sometime…”

Billy grinned, but he was pushed unceremoniously away by a tall redhead.

She might have been pretty, had it not been for the somewhat manic look in her eyes, and Gold took an involuntary step back.

“Hi! I’m Zelena,” she said, perhaps trying for alluring but looking more like she needed to visit the latrine. “Could I please have your autograph?”

Gold looked for a flyer, but her hands were empty. “Um…what do you…”

Before he could even hope to react, the daft women’s blouse was up and over her head, and due to their considerable height difference and her high-heeled boots, he was eye level with a pair of bare breasts.

He stumbled backward, horrified despite being unable to look away. Jefferson, damn the idiot, was only laughing.

“Right here, and here,” she said demurely, pointing to just above her nipples, and stepping closer to his retreating form, reaching a hand out to his leather-clad thigh. “And then perhaps I could accompany you…”

“Ookay, that’ll be quite enough of that.”

Gold heaved a sigh of relief to see Belle suddenly standing between him and the demented woman, staring up at her like she wasn’t also face-to-face with a strange woman’s tits. But he felt his breath hitch at the low, dangerous sound of her voice. She hadn’t sounded like _that_ even speaking to Jones.

“Excuse me?” Zelena snapped.

“You heard me! Put those away and get the _fuck_ away from my man!”

Zelena looked ready to fight, but her arms were seized by David, who was motioning for some other officers to come over while grabbing up the woman’s shirt and holding it in front of her.

Gold didn’t watch the crazed woman get arrested, he only had eyes for his fierce little love.

“I guess I’m gonna have to get used to that,” she growled, turning to him. “Now that the secret is out of what a sexy beast you are.”

Gold threw back his head and laughed, then twined his arms around her. “Well, I may be a _beast_ , but let’s not get carried away. And you most certainly will _not_ have to get used to that, because I’m ready to go home.”

He watched as her hackles lowered and she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Me too.”

“What? No, you should stay…”

She cut him off with a quick kiss. “But I’ve been watching you sway and dance in those infernal pants and…I’m ready to _go home_.”

“Have a good night, Gold,” Victor said, managing to turn such a simple sentence into something lewd.

“You as well,” he toned, glancing at the multiple women all but hanging off him.

Before they could escape the crowd, Neal and Emma found them, followed by an older man.

“That was UNBELIEVABLE!” Neal exclaimed, and Gold’s heart warmed at his son’s boyish enthusiasm. “Pop, you’re a _god_!”

Gold pulled a face before rolling his eyes indulgently. “Well, my name is only a letter away…”

“Pop…uh, I mean, Mr. Gold…” Emma said, an uncharacteristic pink blush creeping onto her cheeks, but instead of laughing at the slip, Gold gave her a warm smile. “This is Mr. Midas,” she continued. “He was watching the concert and asked to speak to you.”

“Wonderful to meet you,” Midas said, shaking Gold’s hand before pulling out a business card. “I just happened to be in the area when I heard about a concert being put on starring a band made up of WWII vets. Being a former Marine myself, I just had to come see, and I must tell you, I liked what I saw.”

Gold looked at the card before handing it off to Belle. “You’re a record producer?” he asked, with no little amount of skepticism.

“That’s right. And I’ve been keeping an eye out for something different, and you, Mr. Gold, are different. I’d like to discuss signing you on, you and the band, of course.”

Gold help up a hand, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Midas, but I have no interest in pursuing this as a career. I’m a businessman, not a singer. This was a one-time thing. Now, if you’d like to speak to the other men, perhaps they…”

But Midas was shaking his head. “Don’t get me wrong, the others are good, but I’m really only interested in a deal with _you_ as the front man. Besides simple, raw talent, you have a very rare charisma Mr. Gold, one that isn’t easy to find.”

Gold shook his head again, and looked down at Belle, who was smiling up at him with something like triumph in her eyes.

“Thank you,” Gold said. “But I’m going to have to decline.”

Midas narrowed his eyes at him. “I can make you rich.”

Gold chuffed. “I’m already rich.”

“And it’s nothing compared to what you _can_ have, and you look like a savvy businessman, Mr. Gold. One who understands the value of a dollar. I’m not giving up on this.”

Gold felt irritation building. “Well, you’ll have to direct all inquiries to my agent.”

“Your…you have an agent?”

Gold flipped his hand toward Belle. “Her.”

Belle gave him a look, but then straightened up and stuck out her hand. “Belle French. I represent the band.”

Midas looked at them both shrewdly, but shook Belle’s hand. “You were something yourself, Miss French. Quite a voice you have there. I’ll be in touch.”

Once he was gone, Gold all but pulled Belle away until they were where he had parked his car by the shop.

Belle didn’t speak until they were at his house. “Was that just a ploy to get him to leave, or are you really considering it?” she asked while she hanged up her coat.

“What do you think of it?” he asked her.

“What I think of it doesn’t really matter. It’s _your_ decision. Yours and the band’s.”

“You _are_ in the band,” he reasoned.

She chuckled. “Not _really_. But at any rate, Midas was pretty clear that what he really wants is _you_. So the decision is really all yours.”

Gold shook his head, and placed his hands on her hips to pull her closer. “Your opinion _absolutely_ matters, Belle. Even if I was considering such a thing, I wouldn’t take a single step until I was sure of your feelings on it. I love you, Belle, I want you always in my life. So yes, your opinion matters.”

Belle bit her lip, and he gently freed it with his thumb. “I think you have such a wonderful talent,” she said carefully. “And you looked so _joyful_ up on stage, like I’ve never seen…”

“But…” he prompted.

She averted her eyes to her shoes. “But I would be afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

“Afraid…oh, I don’t know! You’d get all famous and be taken away from me!”

Gold chuckled and pressed a few nibbling kisses to her lips. “Not bloody likely, my love. I have no desire, whatsoever, to be any sort of famous…unless I’m _infamous_.”

Belle swatted his arm. “Be serious.”

“I _am_ serious. I’m not going to sign on with Midas. I don’t want nor need the money he’s obviously after himself. However…”

She looked back up at him. “However?”

Gold jerked his head toward the stairs, and led the way up. His leg was _screaming_ and he needed to be off of it immediately. He knew he would probably regret that little guitar performance without his cane.

He fell onto bed and Belle started fussing over him immediately.

“Oh you poor darling! I wasn’t even thinking. You’ve been putting way too much weight on it all night, having you?”

“Way too much,” he admitted, feeling it all start to catch up with him.

Belle propped him up with some pillows then moved her hands down to his waist, deftly undoing the buttons of his pants, but not before running a lingering hand up his thigh.

It was hardly a sexy production, peeling the ridiculous pants off him, and he cringed at how sweaty he was.

“I should probably shower,” he said, wrinkling his nose.

“I’m in much the same boat as you,” she chuckled. “This dress doesn’t exactly breathe well.”

“That _dress_ is going to live in my dreams for the rest of my life,” he said honestly.

“How about a bath?” she suggested. “You have a rather huge tub in there…enough room for two, perhaps?”

Gold grinned. A good soak sounded wonderful, but a good soak with _Belle_ sounded like heaven.

He tensed when she took it upon herself to undo the clasps of his leg, but she was businesslike and did it so efficiently, (she must have been watching,) that he relaxed under her touch, especially when she began to rub the enflamed stump.

“My poor love,” she cooed, before reaching to hand him his crutches and helping him up.

He stopped once he was in a sitting position however, running his hands up and down her sides like he’d wanted to all evening, loving the way the fabric glistened as it moved.

Smiling, she turned around so he could access the zipper, and he helped her step out of the dress, taking care not to crush the delicate material.

His mouth ran dry at the sight of her ivory lace brassiere that pushed her breasts up while doing nothing to conceal them, and the matching panties and garter belt. “Beautiful…” he whispered.

He unhooked her stockings from the garters and took his time rolling them down, propping first one foot and then the other on his knee, and nipping at her skin as we went.

“Glad you like them,” she said. “I’ve never bought sexy lingerie before.”

He smiled against her inner thigh. “If you like lingerie, then you should have it. I’ll buy you the whole store.”

Belle laughed and threaded her fingers in his hair, pulling sharply and making him groan. “It’s funny, except I believe you’d actually do that.”

“It would be a small price to pay if it meant you would maybe give me a fashion show.”

She pulled her leg away from him, but he didn’t have time to pout before she was unhooking her brassiere and stepping closer so her breasts were inches from his face.

“Could I have your autograph?” she asked in a mockingly high voice, barely able to keep a straight face.

He smirked up at her, but proceeded to do just that, and signed his name above her nipples…with his tongue.

“Come on, you,” she sighed when he sucked a nipple into his mouth. “Let’s get you into the tub before you make yourself any _more_ achy.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he growled, giving her rear a swift pinch and making her giggle.

She helped him to stand, and hobble his way to the bathroom. His arousal waned during the process of undressing and getting into the tub. It was awkward and clumsy, not sexy in the least, and never would be.

But Belle helped him along lovingly and patiently, humming their song under her breath and giving him sweet kisses every time her mouth was near enough to his.

And he could finally believe it, fully and completely for the first time in their relationship. “You don’t love me despite it,” he said, not realizing until she looked up at him that he’d said it aloud.

“What?”

“My injury. You don’t just love me despite it. It really doesn’t bother you at all, does it?”

Belle smiled, her eyes growing soft. “You finally believe me?” she asked. “I love all of you, Adam Gold. I love your mind, your body, the scars that make you who you are today, and I even love that artificial leg because it’s part of _you_.”

Gold kissed her then. He _had_ to. He tried to infuse every ounce of love he felt for her into it, but still wasn’t sure if it was enough. He would simply have to spend the rest of his life showing her, and he was more than happy to do just that.

They got into the water, sighing both as the warmth soothed away both of their various aches from the evening, but mostly due to their bodies finally being pressed against one another with no barriers.

They started out simply relaxing, but naturally it was only a matter of time before kisses led to touches, and touches led to Belle twisting around, giggling as she almost slipped, and straddling him as he reclined further back into the water. He knew then that spending the extra money on the large tub had been well worth it.

 If they ended up splashing most of the water out of the tub, they hardly cared as they made love slowly. Gold whispered how much he loved her into her ear with every thrust, and she cried out the same in response.

It was difficult to get traction in the tub, and the way she was on top of and wrapped securely around him, he found he couldn’t pull out of her though his orgasm was rapidly approaching. She was hardly even moving up and down anymore, just grinding and writhing on him, and it was driving him mad.

“Belle,” he groaned, not stilling his motion despite the danger. “I can’t…you need…you need to get up, sweetheart, I can’t…”

“No…” she moaned, desperate for release, her face glorious as it twisted up in what might look like pain if he didn’t know better. “Don’t leave me!”

With a proverbial _fuck it_ , he pulled her down even harder against him, twisting his hips. He covered her mouth with, swallowing her scream as she came, the throbbing of her core pulling him even _deeper_ into her, giving him no choice but to follow her into bliss with a shout.

They lay slumped in the cooling water for a long time, letting their breathing even out and their heartrates return to normal.

At long last though, what remained of the water had gotten too cold, and without speaking they both moved to get up. Belle gasped when he slipped out of her.

They still didn’t speak as they got ready for bed, but could hardly keep from touching one another as they donned nightclothes (she wore his shirt again, of course.)

Once they were finally in bed, Belle’s head pillowed against his chest, she broke the silence.

“That was intense,” she whispered.

“Yes, it was,” he agreed. “Belle, I’m sorry. I didn’t…”

“Why are _you_ sorry?” she asked, raising his head to look at him. “I’m the one who should apologize. I wouldn’t let you pull out. It was stupid of me…I just wasn’t thinking…”

“But _I_ should have used one of the condoms I bought. I wasn’t thinking either, love. I’m sorry.”

“Why don’t we just agree that we were both a little foolish, and not do it again? It was only once, after all. And in water…doesn’t that make a difference?”

He chuckled. “I don’t think so, but I’m sure it’ll be fine. We’ll be more careful in the future.”

“Adam?”

“Yes, Belle?”

“I love you.”

“And I love you, so very much.”


	11. Epilogue

“You ready?” his doctor asked, having generously granted a house call for this.

Gold nodded, swallowing in both nervousness and self-consciousness.

Belle, Jefferson, and Neal were all present in his living room, all focused on him as he sat on the sofa in a t-shirt and cotton shorts, trying on his new leg for the first time.

It was sleek, smooth gray plastic, made to be the exact same size and shape of his other leg. Jefferson had said it looked like something from the Space Age. The joints were fitted with titanium ball and sockets, which would give him a natural range of motion, instead of the jerky movement of the aluminum joints on his old one.

The part that attached the limb to his thigh was comprised of soft, smooth leather straps, and a rubbery substance that molded to his flesh comfortably, preventing slipping and absorbing shock. The special “sock” worn under it would keep it from feeling too hot.

It was already incomparably more comfortable than his old one, and he wasn’t even standing yet.

The doctor stood back, so he could observe the fit, and Jefferson lent a hand to help him to his feet. Gold took a deep breath, and levered himself up, clinging to both Jefferson and his cane.

The joints rolled smoothly, but not _so_ smoothly that they wouldn’t lock one he was standing straight.

He looked over at Belle, who was grinning madly. Neal had reached over and taken one of her hands, and she looked like she was about to squeeze the life out of it.

When she nodded in encouragement, he lifted his good foot first, as always, marveling at the lack of pressure and discomfort when all of his weight was braced on the prosthetic.

“Go slowly,” the doctor cautioned. “The joints will move much more easily than you’re used to, so you’re likely to overcompensate.”

Gold took a full step, understanding immediately what the doctor was talking about. It was like picking up an empty box when you were expecting one filled with books.

But once he understood that, he felt much steadier, and released his hold on Jefferson. He walked to the far end of the living room, each step more confident than the last. The discomfort and pain he’d lived with for half his life was all but gone.

When he reached the far wall, he turned back around to face his family, and looked down at the cane in his hand. After twenty years of needing assistance in order to walk, he leaned the cane against the wall, and took his first steps alone.

He almost unbalanced for a second, causing Belle to make a small sound of alarm, but he held up a hand to stop anyone from helping, and crossed the room back to them.

By the time he reached where Belle had come to stand, he was no longer even _limping_. He could walk – normally and comfortably – for the first time in twenty years.

“Belle,” he whispered, tears now running unchecked down his face.

She was in no better condition, but neither were Jefferson and Neal for that matter. Even his doctor had to turn away to fish out a handkerchief.

“You did it!” Belle said.

He opened his arms, _both_ arms, and she obliged him by flying into them. “Thank you, Belle,” he whispered.

“Why are you thanking me?” she asked, pulling back just far enough to look at him.

“Why?” he laughed. “For looking into the choices available to me? For helping me research the best one? For being so damned _wonderful_ all of the time and bringing me…God…for bringing me back from the _dead_?”

Belle blushed, ducking her face into his chest. “You did that on your own,” she said, her voice muffled. “I just kicked you into gear.”

“A kick I sorely needed,” he said into her hair. “I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you, too.”

“AND I LOVE YOU, TOO!” Jefferson exclaimed loudly, making them all jump.

“Oh get over here,” Gold said, rolling his eyes and beckoning with one arm.

Jefferson almost plowed the two of them over, throwing his long arms around them both.

Shrugging at the bemused doctor, Neal sauntered over to the bunch, opposite side of Jefferson, and joined the group hug.

“Help! I’m suffocating!” Belle squawked from her position in the middle.

“Just feel the love,” Jefferson said, patting her hair. “Feel the love.”

“That’s enough!” Gold roared, pushing everyone but Belle away. “I’ve had just about enough love for one day, thank you!”

“But the others aren’t even here yet!” Jefferson complained. “They’ll want to share the love, believe me.”

“Others? You mean Emma and Ruby?”

Jefferson hesitated. “…And Victor, and Archie, and David, and Mary Margaret…oh! And Granny. Uh, and Moe.”

Gold groaned. “What? You didn’t tell me you were inviting everyone over!”

“You invited my dad?” Belle asked, surprised.

“Granny and Ruby are bringing dinner!” he said as if that made up for everything. “They all just want to offer their congratulations, that’s all!”

“Come on, Papa,” Neal said. “They’re your friends.”

Gold rolled his eyes again. “I suppose. I’m glad you at least gave me _this_ much warning. I’d better go change. Belle?”

“What?” she asked innocently. “What do you need _me_ to go with you for? You said you’ve had _enough_ love for one day!”

He reached over and grabbed her arm, yanking her playfully to him before kissing her soundly.

“Ewww…” both Neal and Jefferson teased.

 

The evening wound up turning into a party, everyone surprised and delighted to see Gold walking so straight and easily, unaided. He’d even let Belle talk him into wearing his loosest fitting trousers so that he could obligingly pull up the pant leg when Victor and David inevitably asked him to.

Gold looked around the room, at Granny petting at Mary Margaret’s growing belly while Emma and Neal speculated on the baby’s gender and name. At David, Victor, Archie, and Maurice deep in a game of darts (with the dartboard David and Mary Margaret brought as a gift,) and at Jefferson and Ruby snuggling in a corner. “Everyone we care about most is here,” he commented.

“Mhmm,” Belle said drowsily, leaning on his shoulder as they sat on the couch.

“And there’s something I can do now, that I couldn’t do before.”

“What’s that?” she asked, sitting up to look at him.

Gold stood up, still marveling at how easy it was, only to kneel down on one knee before her.

All trace of sleepiness gone, Belle sat up straight, eyes wide.

“Belle,” he began quietly and nervously. “I’ve forgotten what life was like before you walked into mine just a few short months ago, when I saw you standing there with a flower painted on your cheek. I…I feel like I owe you so much and I…well, all I can do to pay you back for everything you’ve given me is to just _love_ you and spend every day for the rest of my life making you happy. I’d like to do that…if you’ll have me.”

By this point, everyone was taking notice to what was going on. Mary Margaret grabbed the back of David’s shirt roughly to turn him around, and Ruby swatted excitedly at Jefferson even though he’d been watching from the start. Maurice smiled knowingly, as Gold had done the _proper_ thing by his standards, and asked for his blessing weeks before.

Gold reached into his jacket pocket and brought out a small velvet box, opening it with shaking hands to reveal the ring Belle had been eyeballing in his shop for ages. A gold band, with a modestly-sized diamond surrounded by small sapphires. Simple, yet beautiful.

Belle’s hand was already sticking out before Gold even said the words, and he chuckled, taking the ring out of the box to slip it onto her hand. “Will you marry me?” he asked.

The moment the ring was slid into place, Belle was launching herself off the couch and quite literally tackling him to the floor. A risk she probably wouldn’t have taken with his old leg. But he only flopped onto his back, holding her tightly, and laughing with joy. “You haven’t given me your answer!”

“Yes!” she exclaimed. “Yes, of course!”

She threaded her fingers into his hair and _pulled_ his head up to meet hers, kissing him deeply and thoroughly.

Maurice cleared his throat uncomfortably, but the couple didn’t come up for air.

“They may be like that for a while,” Jefferson said. “Granny, didn’t you mention earlier that there was cake in the kitchen?”

“Sure is,” Granny said. “Come on, everyone.”

They all filed out of the living room, leaving the oblivious pair to their amorous celebration.

“I’m so happy!” Belle exclaimed, laughing. “When should we get married?! Before the trip?!”

Gold chuckled, sitting up but keeping her close. “That’s awfully soon, sweetheart. We leave in two weeks.”

Though he had refused Midas’s admittedly tempting offers, Gold had decided that he _did_ truly enjoy performing, and it was no secret that the rest of _Company B_ did as well. So, with the help of Belle and Emma, they organized and planned a little tour of their own, playing in festivals and small venues. Emma insisted that as word spread, more and bigger venues would be asking them to come, but for now they were just going to take a road trip around the East coast. The first show was actually set in Tallahassee, Florida. Emma and Neal had taken a trip there together a month prior, and Emma had returned with a show venue and a ring of her very own. Gold looked forward, not only to the show, but to getting to see Belle in a bikini.

Because of course, Belle was coming. She was both a singer and co-manager after all, and she’d always longed to travel. Ruby and Mary Margaret were staying at home, Ruby because of her work with her Granny, and Mary Margaret because she was only a couple short months away from giving birth. For his part, David would only be able to participate in part of the tour, as he didn’t want to use all of his time off when he needed to save some for the birth of his new son or daughter.

“I know it’s soon,” Belle said, kissing him again. “But I just can’t _wait_ to be married to you! I need to be able to tell all of those groupies that, hey, that’s my HUSBAND! Hands off!”

“I quite like the sound of that,” Gold said. “And I must say, I’m also rather fond of your possessiveness.”

Belle giggled, before a sheepish look crossed her features and she bit her lip. “But also…it might be… _good_ to go ahead and get married.”

Gold furrowed his brows “Belle?”

“I was going to tell you tonight after everyone left, I only just found out! I…well…we’re going to have ourselves a second-generation musician soon.”

Gold was silent for a long beat before the wires in his brain finally connected. “Are…are you saying what…I think you’re saying?!”

“We’re having a baby, Adam.”

Gold stammered in shock. “Are you…how?!”

Belle laughed. “What do you mean, how?!”

“I mean…we were so careful…except…oh.”

“Yes, _oh_. It would seem that one time was all it took. I know this isn’t exactly a good time, what with the tour and not even being _married_ just yet…I’m three months along so it’s not like anyone won’t _know_. But I love it already and…are you happy, Adam?”

In response, Gold hauled her against him and kissed her soundly. “Happy?” he said, pulling back with tears in his eyes. “Belle, you just told me you would marry me and are having my child all at once. I’ve never been happier in my life!”

“Did I just hear what I think I heard?” Neal said, he and Jefferson peeking back into the room. “Am I gonna be a big brother?”

Gold laughed. “Damned eavesdroppers! Yes, you are.”

Everyone came piling back into the living room then, offering up a whole new set of congratulations. Maurice was surprisingly relaxed, seeming not terribly perturbed that his daughter had gotten pregnant out of wedlock, only thrilled at the prospect of being a grandpa.

“This is wonderful!” Mary Margaret gushed. “Our babies can grow up together!”

“Um…I don’t know if this is a good time…” Emma said, her and Neal looking at one another nervously. “Not trying to steal your thunder or anything, Belle, but since everyone is so baby happy right now…”

“Oh God,” David moaned. “Don’t tell me…”

Neal looked right at Gold. “How do you feel about a new baby, _and_ a new grandbaby?”

Both Gold and David had to sit down then, while Belle threw her arms around first Emma’s neck, then Neal’s. Mary Margaret took a deep breath but hugged her daughter tight.

“This is the greatest day of MY LIFE!” Jefferson yelled. “I’m going to be the best all-around uncle in the world! Ruby, you don’t have anything to say, do you?!”

Ruby blanched. “NO! And don’t get any ideas, mister!”

“I think this calls for wine,” Granny declared, leading the way once again to the kitchen.

“Well,” David said before standing up and looking down at Gold. “At least I know she’s joining a hell of a family.”

Gold gave him a smile. “Likewise for Neal.”

He opened his arms for Belle to curl up in his lap. “It’s going to be so much fun with so many babies running around!” she enthused.

He chuckled. “So it will be. Before that, though, I can’t wait to spoil my pregnant wife absolutely rotten.”

“You already spoil me rotten. Must be practice for how you’ll spoil this little one.”

But what Gold had meant was he couldn’t wait to care for her the way she always did with him and his leg. And yes, he knew that one day soon he would be helpless but to dote upon his child, a child he would get to raise and love and never let go. And a grandchild he would get to do the same for. And, also, one other he had already been anticipating becoming the favorite uncle to.

“I’ve found my HEN,” he said, holding back a smirk.

“Excuse me? Did you just call me a hen?”

“No,” he chuckled. “Happy Ending Now.”

Belle groaned and rolled her eyes, getting a small handful of hair and threatening to pull.

“Go ahead,” Gold challenged her. “Pull my hair, Belle.”

Belle did, and she kissed him hard, and he hoped everyone else would go home soon so he could celebrate properly with his fiancé.

“I love you, Adam Gold.”

“And I love you, soon-to-be Belle Gold.”

 

**_The End_ **

**Author's Note:**

> So, all of my knowledge of the 1960s comes secondhand from being raised by my parents, lol. I apologize for any and all inaccuracies!


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